All That Remains
by JustSlightlyConfused
Summary: Chekov has tried his best to move on since the death of James Kirk. It's been a hard twelve months, yet somehow he's managed to make it this far. But when a familiar face resurfaces against all odds and everyone's favorite Ensign suddenly disappears, his family must once again come together in order to bring their youngest home.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! So as you can guess, the full-length fic was chosen and now here it is! I've got the first three chapters posted right now because I'll be going on vacation for a week with no internet. But fear not! I shall be back to continue with updates as soon as I can. Thank you so much for all your loving comments and support. Don't forget to review! Have a lovely day everyone. **

Somewhere in a graying, fog-drenched city, a door slams shut

A figure strides toward the window across the room and stares out into the murky bleakness of the evening.

Pavel Chekov always believed there were three types of angry; three distinct types of the same emotion.

The first type of angry is frustrated angry, the kind that makes him huff and puff, pace back and forth across a room, and refuse to let him sit still as his mind stays latched onto whatever is irritating him.

The second kind is furious angry. This one is particularly common in times of danger, especially when a loved one is in trouble. It also occurs when something angers him so much to the point of violence, something he rarely commits.

The third kind of angry is, in his opinion, the worst. The third type is sad angry; the kind that makes you realize how much you care about something but still feel like you're falling apart from the inside. The third kind is what makes you cry soft tears despite the feeling of wanting to punch through a wall.

Pavel Chekov was the third kind of angry.

He stared out of his apartment window, bitter tears trailing from his eyes. So many thoughts rampaged through his mind, making him more frustrated and sad with each passing second.

He yelled out in frustration as he picked up an adjacent vase and threw it against the wall. The shattered glass clattering to the floor made him feel slightly better, so he did it again. He reached for the ornaments lining the mantle of his fireplace and tossed them one by one at the floor. The book case he spent so much time organizing was ruined in seconds, its contents spilling onto the floor. He grabbed a stack of papers and angrily threw them into the open air, littering the small apartment with white.

The adrenaline pumped through him as he stared at his work, breath heavy and labored. The small burst of energy quickly wore off, and was replaced with the painful ache he'd felt before.

Everything had gone so wrong so fast he didn't even know what direction to turn. He knew where it started though: the day he never liked to remember; the day the world felt as though it had stopped spinning entirely and the sun would never again rise.

_"__We are gathered to recognize and celebrate the life of James T. Kirk: A captain, a friend, a brother". _

_Chekov did not pick up on most of what was said. All he could think about was having to place a flower, his final goodbye, onto the shiny black coffin he just couldn't seem to take his eyes off of. _

_The day was bleak and so was the atmosphere. No one wanted to believe that this day had finally come._

_Chekov followed behind his best friend, who was a solemn statue of strength. His head held high, he advanced toward the coffin in step behind the others. Chekov couldn't even try to replicate Sulu's mask of bravery in that moment, so he chose to quietly walk behind him, a rose clutched tightly in his hand. _

_Chekov's breath began to hitch as he neared the wood-crafted box that seemed so wrong just being present. After Sulu placed his rose onto the coffin and whispered a few words, he turned to the boy behind him, gave an encouraging nod, and left to return to his seat. Chekov stared at the black box before him._

_He tried to say something, but all that came out was a small, choked sob. He hung his head as the new tears traced down the dried tracks on his cheeks and kneeled beside the coffin. With one hand resting lightly on the top to keep him anchored to reality, he finally managed to speak._

_"__I'm…I'm so sorry. I know zhat means nothing now zhat you're…zhat you're gone. But I am. I didn't do enough. I didn't try hard enough. If I could have just gotten there faster then maybe…" _

_The boy took a shaky breath in as more tears trailed down his face. _

_"__Please come back. It's not fair. You can't just leave like zhis. Do you remember telling me zhat you were born inwincible and zhat's vhy you survived ewerything? You vere like some kind of superhero vhen you told me zhat. I knew it vasn't true, but the vay you said it made me vant to believe it". _

_Chekov squeezed the rose stem tightly in his hand, a small thorn pricking the inside of his palm._

_"__I don't know vhat I'm going to do vithout you. You're my big brother, remember? You said you'd alvays be zhere vhen I needed you. Vell…I need you now," the boy sobbed, "I need you to tell me zhat it's going to be okay and zhat ve're going to fix zhis just like ve alvays do. I need you to not…"_

_He hesitated, the blackness of the coffin now a murky blur through his eyes._

_"__I need you to not be dead," he whispered tearfully. The air around him was cold, and silence filled his ears. He kneeled there for a few seconds longer crying before composing himself and standing up._

_He straightened his jacket, attempted to wipe the salty tears from his eyes, and stared at the coffin, still pleading for this all to be a hellish nightmare. _

_Knowing that he wasn't going to be waking up, Chekov shakily reached out and placed the rose gently among the others and took a step back. A light rain had begun to fall and most people had begun retreating to the inside of the church. Only seven remained, solemnly standing as the misty rain came down upon them._

Chekov cringed in pain at the awful memory. It had been nearly a year since that day. And now he felt that pain all over again; not because of the pain of losing someone, but the pain of being betrayed.

He'd wanted to believe for so long that Kirk was alive. That he would come striding around the corner going "Hey guys, sure fooled you! I even got you to cry!" Chekov used to imagine how mad he'd be if that were to happen, but after time he would have given the world just to hear his friend talk one more time.

Today had started out so promising, and now it had all come crashing down with a single revelation.

He'd been walking with Sulu down the street after spending most of the day exploring the city and celebrating Chekov's 20th birthday. Night had fallen and they were making their way down a rainy street when they were stopped by someone dressed all in black and a hood.

_"__Look buddy," Sulu said. "We don't want any trouble". He tried to maneuver himself and Chekov around the suspicious figure, but the man stepped in front of them._

_Sulu took a step back and pulled Chekov's arm, placing himself slightly in front of him. "Hey, I said we didn't want any trouble, now be on your way or you won't like the consequences. C'mon Pavel, let's go". _

_Chekov went to follow his friend as he brushed by the stranger, but hesitated when the man called out to them._

_"__Wait," he said. The sound of the voice was just strange enough that it caused Chekov to grab the back of Sulu's sweatshirt to stop him. Confused, the older man turned around._

_"__What?"_

_Chekov looked over his shoulder to the stranger, whose gaze was locked on the ground._

_"__What about him?" Sulu asked._

_Chekov took a step forward and his friend grabbed onto his arm instantly._

_"__This guy is bad news," Hikaru warned him, "let's just go. We have to be at McCoy's place in ten minutes anyway". _

_At the mention of the old Doctor, the figure's head snapped up and Chekov strained his eyes to see behind the shroud of darkness that covered the man's face._

_"__Bones…" He whispered; the single word caused Chekov to freeze and lock eyes with his friend, who was in just as much shock as he was. _

_Chekov took another daring step forward; and this time Sulu didn't stop him. _

_"__Zhat name," Chekov said more sternly than he meant, "How do you know zhat name?"_

_A few moments passed until the man's shoulders began to shake, almost as if he was …laughing._

_"__I gave it to him," the stranger whispered back._

_Immediately, Chekov's heart dropped and he felt all the blood rush from his face. In that single moment, every endless day, every nightmare, every night of crying, every single painful memory, came rushing back to him instantly. This was the single thing he wanted more than anything in this world, the prayer he prayed every night, the wish he hung upon every star until he didn't think there were any more left in the endless night sky…_

_"__Keptin?"_

_The figure reached up and slowly lowered its hood, revealing a face Chekov never thought he'd ever get to see again. _

_"__Hey kid," Kirk smiled at him. _

_Chekov felt numb. All noises around him fell silent. He thought there'd be some kind of happiness blooming inside him; some kind of excitement to see the person he thought he'd lost forever. But…he felt nothing._

_He watched as Sulu slowly neared Kirk, analyzing every inch of him, making absolute sure that what he saw was real. _

_When he was a mere few inches from the supposedly dead captain, Sulu stopped; simply choosing to stare rather than move any closer._

_Chekov watched Kirk's expression change. "It's really me, Hikaru. Swear on my grave". Then he smiled that inimitable grin._

_"__You're here," Sulu whispered evenly; and a voice in Chekov's head told him it was a rather odd thing to say. 'You're here' rather than 'You're alive'. _

_"__I'm here," Kirk repeated back to him._

_Sulu slightly shook his head. "You…you weren't supposed to be back for another month". _

_Suddenly, Chekov found it hard to breathe. Back? As in gone somewhere? No but that wasn't right. Kirk had been dead, hadn't he? There was no way Chekov had imagined the day he died, the funeral, all the pain he'd tried to ignore for the past twelve months. It wasn't possible. Kirk. Was. Dead._

_And yet here he was, surprising Chekov in being alive, but apparently only surprising Sulu by simply being here. On this street. Rather than somewhere else. _

_"__I know," Kirk said solemnly, "but something's gone wrong. And I need your help again"._

**_Again?_**

_That was it for Chekov. He took a step forward, garnering the attention of the two older men who had apparently forgotten he was there. _

_Sulu's eyes widened slightly and he immediately began to try and explain himself, but Chekov shook his head._

_"__You vere…alive," he managed to mumble out in disbelief. "All this time…alive." _

_"__Chekov, kid, look you have to let me explain," Kirk stepped forward and reached out for the boy. But Chekov shook his head and slowly inched backwards._

_"__You were dead," he said, his tone slowly rising in volume. "I watched you die"._

_Kirk looked to Sulu, and it was in that moment that Chekov realized what had actually happened; what had happened to cause him so much pain, so much anger, so much agony. _

_"__You knew," he locked eyes with Sulu. _

_His friend couldn't say anything; only stare at the younger boy apologetically, knowing no words would be able to make up for what he'd done._

_Chekov looked at the pavement and shook his head in disbelief, smiling dryly, humorlessly, as raging tears slowly began to fill his eyes. _

_"__Pasha," Kirk pleaded, using the nickname he reserved only for when Chekov needed him most. _

_"__No," the boy snapped, looking up. "Don't you say zhat. Don't you call me zhat"._

_The look on Kirk's face would have made Chekov break. But that was before he was betrayed by the person he once called a brother._

_Jim took one more step forward, reaching out his hand to the younger boy, but Chekov refused. _

_In that moment, he didn't want to be comforted by anyone. He didn't want anyone to tell him it was going to be alright. He wanted nothing. He felt nothing._

_And what did he do whenever he felt nothing?_

_He ran. _

And so now he finds himself locked inside his own apartment, tucked into a corner with his knees pulled to his chest, heart-wrenching sobs echoing of the walls around him.

He looks around at the remains of his ruined belongings, hoping they'll give him the urge to feel any emotion other than the crippling despondency that's suffocating him.

But they do nothing except remind him of why he finds himself here, hating himself, this world, and this universe.

He sits there a long time. Minutes turn into hours and he doesn't bother picking up the phone that vibrates in his pocket for 3 minutes straight.

All he wants is the relief of the ground opening up and swallowing him whole, but the relief never comes.

He falls asleep there, head resting lightly against the wall, hoping that when he sleeps that maybe, just maybe, the night will spare him its usually nightmares.

But then again, he thinks, maybe being awake has become more of a nightmare than being asleep.

Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

Pavel slowly inches back into consciousness at about 3 o'clock in the morning. He startles himself at first; thinking someone has broken in after catching a glance of the mess around him.

It's only then does he realize why he's here and why it looks as though a tornado has touched down and left a maelstrom in its wake.

Bitterly, he wipes the sleep from his eyes and stands, wobbly on his legs and cringing at a pain in his neck; probably from leaning on the wall in such an uncomfortable position.

He's only been asleep for about six hours, but it still feels like an eternity has passed between now and the time he got here.

Seeing the mess he's made surprisingly doesn't put him in any mood for cleaning, so he instead opts for kicking things along the hardwood floor and seeing how far out of the way he can get them.

After a minute, he wonders what he's doing. Why is here? Why is he aimlessly kicking shattered glass throughout his apartment, moping? Why is he standing here bitterly, trying to reason with himself?

Maybe, Pavel thinks, I just want to think of a good enough reason why.

Why had Kirk kept this from him? Why had _Sulu _kept this from him? Did anyone else know? Or was he the only one left out of the "fake Kirk's death committee"? Why did Kirk even fake his death in the first place? What was he hiding? Why did he need to leave for so long? Why did he say _nothing for __**twelve months?**_ He never once thought to drop by and reassure Chekov that he hadn't lost one of the people he holds most dear in this world?

Pavel shakes his head in frustration and takes a deep breath in. He can feel his cheeks heating up in anger, and the temperature in the room seems to have risen drastically.

Growling in irritation he grabs his phone off the floor where it fell out of his pocket while he slept and slams the door shut behind him as he exits his apartment. He takes the stairs, hoping that maybe some movement will ease his frustrations, but by the time he gets to the bottom floor, it's only made him angrier.

He storms out of the automatic doors and is immediately hit with a wave of cool night air. He breathes in deeply through his nose, letting the chilled autumn wind soothe his furious mood.

Pavel looks to the stars and sighs in admiration, just as he always has when he lifts his gaze towards the sky. He wonders if he'd still be up there right now going about his normal duties had everything not gone to hell just over a year ago. He frowns at the thought of it, and a sour taste sits in his mouth.

Things are different now, and they certainly won't go back to the way they were. He makes sure he reminds himself of that. He won't be getting his hopes up only to have them crushed anymore.

Pavel stands there for a moment, allowing the rising power of the wind to brush over him; his flimsy unzipped jacket blowing frantically around.

He's about to decide to head back to his apartment when the scuff of a footstep sounds behind him, and he's on edge faster than he can blink. He spins around quickly and ducks, a mere second from taking a threatening blow to the head.

His attacker is shroud in darkness, but that doesn't stop him from preparing to defend himself at any angle. The figure strikes forward again, and Pavel turns 360 degrees as an arm brushes by his upper back.

He hears a growl of frustration and takes it as a sign to get the hell away from whatever is after him.

As Pavel turns on his heel and tries to get a head start down the opposite street, a firm hand with a powerful grip lashes out and secures the back of his shirt and jacket. Before he can decide to even try and defend himself, he's thrown backwards into the air and crashes straight through the automatic glass doors.

An alarm blares and the attacker curses loudly at the sudden attention drawn to the scene. Pavel regretfully tries to sit up, pain radiating from every inch of his back and lower body. He feels shards of glass embed themselves in his palms as he pushes himself up, but elects to ignore them in order to avoid getting smashed over the head by the shrouded figure, who apparently is even more angry after the security system activated and set off possibly every alarm in a two block radius.

Chekov launches himself to the right and rolls painfully as he lands. He knows his time to move is limited, so he gets into a standing position and makes a break for the stairwell.

He's about six stairs up when that same stubborn hand latches onto his ankle, and suddenly he's falling, his face headed straight for the tiled steps. His hands are barely able to spare him what could have been a broken a nose, and leave him with a heavily bruised one that is now bleeding profusely. He turns over and attempts to kick away the offending hand, but fails as he's yanked downward.

The figure drags him back down the staircase until he's lying face up, still unable to clearly see his attacker's face.

The glint of metal catches his peripheral vision and before he can react, a heavy foot presses down on his chest, pinning him to the floor.

Whatever caught his eye is apparently very sharp and intended for his bloodstream, because before he can process what's happening, a painful prick emanates from the side of his neck, and he's left with a stinging sensation worse than any hypospray has ever given him.

The foot is removed from his chest and he sees it as his last opportunity to escape.

Yet as he attempts to stand, he's suddenly on all fours, vision blurred and limbs heavy. He finds it even harder to breathe than before, and there's an awful ringing in both ears.

He coughs violently, attempting to stay conscious long enough to grab his phone from his pocket. He mocks stomach pain in order to hide the device from view. It's completely blurred in his vision, but his fingers are familiar with the controls enough to hit Sulu's number on speed dial.

The tone rings three times before his arm is yanked painfully upward and he's nose to nose with whoever attacked him. The phone is ripped from his hand and although he can't see it, he can hear it being cracked beneath the pressure of a boot. The figure holding onto him is too blurry to see anymore, and Pavel is left slightly hanging off the ground, one arm lying useless at his side, and the other immobilized in a firm grasp. His feet are barely able to hold him up now, and he can feel whatever drug was pumped through him quickly taking effect.

He's thrown to the ground once more and he hears the glass from the broken doors crunch beneath him as he lays there, no longer able to move and barely able to breathe.

Darkness is quickly overtaking his vision, but he can see the figure lean down towards him in order to say something.

As his eyes slip close and the drug overtakes his bloodstream, Pavel can barely hear the words, "I hope you're worth it," leave the lips of whoever attacked him before he's pulled away from reality and plunged into the world of unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

Jim Kirk sits on his friend Hikaru Sulu's couch, his leg bouncing up and down in anticipation and uneasiness. His eyes flicker to the clock on the wall; it's a little past two-thirty at night. He's been sitting here in this apartment for nearly an hour now and each minute has seemed to drag on longer than the last.

His friend is in the kitchen making tea, something that he always does when he knows people are on edge.

"Are you sure he's going to be alright?" Kirk asks as he turns around and leans against the back end of the couch. Sulu doesn't look up and continues to pour steaming tea into small ceramic cups.

"I already told you: I called the receptionist. She said she saw him walking up the stairs to his place at nine-thirty and he hadn't left by the time she clocked out at one. I'm sure he's asleep by now. Today wasn't exactly his most conventional birthday".

Kirk bites the inside of his cheek, taking note that that last sentence was directed entirely at him.

"I know. But you saw him Sulu, he was a mess. I'm just worried about him is all".

"Doesn't seem like it to me," Sulu mumbles as he stirs his tea just a little too forcefully. Kirk furrows his brow.

"And why would you think that?" He asks defensively.

Hikaru looks up at him. "Oh I don't know, Kirk," he begins, his voice laced with venom, "Jeopardizing a year-long project and then waltzing right up to a person who more or less _mourned _you for endless months without the slightest hint that you might still be alive doesn't exactly bring the word "worried" to mind. Reckless and stupid is more like it".

Kirk exhales heavily "Jeez, tell me how you really feel".

Sulu slams his cup down on the counter. "This isn't a joke Jim!" He sighs angrily and shakes his head in disbelief. "What you did was not only careless, but selfish. You wanted to go undercover and I backed you up. You gave me your reasons and I respected that. I understood. But what I don't understand is how you came to the conclusion to that showing up out of _nowhere _would somehow fix whatever godforsaken problem you've gotten yourself into now".

Kirk's eyes light up in anger at the accusations being thrown into his face. "You think I wanted this to happen?! You think that after all I've done I would be that unprepared, just show up at your door asking for your help? I _knew_ the risks, Hikaru. I knew what coming back would do, but I had no choice".

"No," Sulu spits, "you did have a choice. And you made the wrong one".

"Do you even know why I came back?" Kirk yells.

"I don't need to know why!" Sulu matches his volume. "You came back and now it's a whole new mess we're in. What happens when everyone else finds out, hm? That you're still alive? That they didn't actually bury your _body? _That they didn't watch you bleed out on the floor without even getting the chance to say goodbye? What more do you want from them Kirk? You don't think they've been through enough? Sacrificed enough? Well guess what: all those weeks you were gone, I had to pick up the pieces. You left them broken. Hurt. Hell, I'm amazed any of them even recovered after something like that. You being here is the **last **thing they need".

"I'm the thing they need most!" Kirk finally screams, his body now rigidly standing up, his fists clenched at his sides. "They're all in danger and I'm the only one who can do anything about it! Those men? They've got a plan. They think I'm still alive! They're calling bullshit on our story. And who do you think are the _first _people they're going after when it means getting to me?"

Sulu falls silent, his face growing rather pallid.

Kirk nods his head. "That's right. This is some serious shit, Hikaru, and I wouldn't have come back unless I absolutely needed to. Everything I've worked for this past year is for nothing now. And you can go ahead and look at me like I'm the biggest dick on earth right now, but you and I both know that the only reason I even left in the first place was to protect **them**. Every decision I've made since that day _has been_ for **them**."

Kirk finishes nearly out of breath from all his yelling. Sulu's gaze is now trained on the floor, his lips pursed tightly together. There's a moment of tension as neither man speaks.

"Does Spock know you're back?" Sulu asks quietly. Jim shakes his head in response.

"I haven't contacted him in over a month. You're the first person I came to as soon as I got out".

"Of course I am," Sulu mumbles. He scrubs a tired hand over his face. "Well shit," he mutters, completely at a blank on what to do now. He looks to Kirk once more. "And you're sure they're after us?"

Jim nods firmly. "I wouldn't have come back if I wasn't absolutely positive".

Sulu sighs in acknowledgement. "Okay," he simply says.

"Okay?"

"Okay I'll help you," the younger man replies. "I've never doubted your judgment before and if you say that there's some serious shit about to go down, then I've got your back".

Kirk gives a small smile. "Thank you, Sulu," he pauses a moment, trying to think of the exact words to say, "for everything".

Hikaru nods back to him, accepting the older man's thinly veiled apology. He waits a few seconds before asking his next question.

"So how long until they find everyone?"

Kirk shakes his head. "There's no telling when they'll come, but I think I definitely have a good day's head start on them. They were just starting to scout out possible locations when I made a break for it."

Hikaru taps his fingers against the countertops anxiously. "So what's our next move then? Call the others here to make sure no one gets into any trouble?"

Kirk sighs, ready to face the impending event of revealing himself to his other friends. He keeps telling himself it's all for the best; it's the only thing that's gotten him this far. "I don't think we have any other choice. We'll have power in numbers should any of them find us, and it'll be easier to keep everyone safe if they're all together".

"I agree," Sulu replies. "Better call them before it gets any later. If we're lucky, they might still be hanging around McCoy's. I told them Chekov wasn't really feeling up to a party but to not let that ruin the fun. Hopefully they listened".

Kirk reaches for the phone on the table but Sulu quickly stops him. "Ah, better let me take care of the calling. It's probably better they don't find out you're still alive over the phone".

Kirk slowly pulls back his hand in realization, nodding at his friend's observation.

Sulu picks up the phone and begins to dial the number, praying the others are sober enough to answer the phone. He's seconds away from hitting the call button when the silence of the apartment is sliced apart by the screeching sound of sirens piercing the night. Sulu runs to the window in just enough time to see three police cars racing down the street and into the darkness.

"Well what the hell was that ab-"

Kirk is cut off as Sulu's cell phone begins ringing from inside his pocket. Fumbling, the younger man manages to retrieve it.

"It's Pavel," Sulu mutters in slight confusion. He puts the cell phone to his ear and answers.

"Hello?"

No response.

"Pavel, you there?"

Then there's a sound that chills Sulu's blood as it emanates over the phone. It's Chekov yelling in pain and the sound of something, or _someone_, being dragged.

"Chekov?" Sulu yells frantically into the phone. Kirk is standing now, fully aware that something is very, very wrong.

Sulu listens in horror to what sounds like Chekov's phone hitting the floor followed immediately by silence. He stands there a moment, shocked and unsure of what to do.

"Pavel?" He calls. There's no answer. The line has gone completely dead. Sulu pulls the phone away from his ear and stares in disbelief.

"What?" Kirk asks, his eyes darting from the phone to the despondent man holding it. "What happened?"

Sulu looks to his friend in slight shock. "We need to get to Chekov's. Now."

Without another word, Kirk and Sulu are out the door and in the car, Sulu pressing the gas pedal to the floor as they rocket down the street towards Chekov's apartment.

When they get there, it's nearly impossible to get through the crowd that's gathered around the housing complex. People of all ages in various night clothes have flooded the street to get a glimpse of what had caused so much commotion in the late hours of the night.

Kirk pulls his hood up to make recognizing him harder, and both he and Sulu push through to the front of the crowd where a line of police barricades have been set up in order to keep pedestrians out. To the side, a few individuals are talking to offices, most likely giving details as to what they heard.

They easily cross over the barriers but are stopped by a middle-aged cop just before they reach the shattered remains of the front doors.

"Sorry folks, this is as far as you can go," he relays almost manually.

"Sir, I'm Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu and this is…Ensign… Roberts," Sulu lies.

"Ensign?" He hears Kirk whisper in offended disbelief. Sulu elbows him in the ribs and effectively shuts him up.

"We're with Starfleet, sent here to investigate. We believe this has to do with one of our own".

The aging officer apparently accepts the lie, because he nods gruffly and moves off to the side in order to keep other people back.

Sulu and Kirk are upon the grisly scene within seconds of crossing the threshold into the building. Shattered glass litters the floor and there's a trail of blood leading from about halfway down the stairs to the middle of the lobby where giant, sickly drops of red have stained the white tile.

They both exchange painful glances as they realize there's only one explanation for all of this.

And in that moment of realization, they both acknowledge how much is at stake and that now they're going to need all the help they can get in bringing home their little brother.

Hikaru wastes no time pulling out his phone and once again dialing McCoy's number.

"Hello?" A groggy voice answers.

Hikaru doesn't hesitate. "Get everyone to my place now. We have a serious problem. I'll explain when you get there." He glances at the blood-stained floor once more. "And hurry".


	4. Chapter 4

"_Get down!"_

_Chekov was tackled to the ground as deafening shots sounded overhead. He struggled to breathe through the thick dust that had been kicked up in the chaos. He craned his head to the right and could see people running frantically; desperate to find cover. _

_Spock had knocked him out of harm's way as phaser shots had begun raining down. The Vulcan was now shielding both himself and the younger boy from the danger all around._

"_Stay low. Do not attempt confrontation. Find Lieutenant Sulu. I will find the Captain," Spock listed as he pushed himself up into a crouched position, his phaser at the ready. Chekov nodded his head in response as he did the same. _

"_Be safe, Ensign," Spock instructed evenly before leaving. Chekov watched the man tread carefully along until he was no longer visible, the shroud of dusty air concealing him completely. _

_All around, Chekov could hear screams and shouts of fear. He could hear footsteps pounding the ground and weapons firing. The air was thick with debris and dirt and he covered the front of his mouth and nose with his shirt. _

_Chekov swiftly ran alongside a series of homes in order to conceal himself. From what, he didn't know. He knew of the attacks that had nearly destroyed surrounding towns: that was why they were assigned to this mission. But what what he didn't know was why he had yet to see a single attacker or aggressor. Fighting a solid enemy was safer than fighting an invisible one. This entire mission scared him more than he wanted to admit. _

_But his fears were not his first priority: protecting the natives on this planet were. Chekov began directing people in the streets towards shelter. Any stragglers he found he quickly led into the nearest home and made sure they locked the door behind them. _

_At one point, he found a little girl, no more than five years old, crying out for her mother and father. He ran out to her quickly and kneeled down. _

"_Are you alright?" He asked, checking her over for injuries. The girl did not answer; only continued to sob as tears streaked down her dirt-covered cheeks. _

_More weapons fired while screams echoed all around and Chekov knew that staying in the open wasn't an option._

"_I'm going to keep you safe, okay?" Chekov told the girl calmly. She continued to cry but lifted her arms to be carried and nodded. Chekov scooped her into his arms and began to run. _

_Soon and without warning, explosions began rocking the ground. Chekov had only a few seconds to register that bombs were being set off before he launched both himself and the small girl he was carrying into a vacant home. _

_They landed harshly on the cold ground and Chekov did his best to spare the girl of any further injury. He promptly moved himself and his charge to the backof the room, away from all windows and doors. _

_The house around him shook violently as more explosions decimated the planet. The girl clutched to him tightly and he hugged her firmly, mumbling words of comfort as pieces of broken plaster fell from the ceiling. _

_From his belt, Chekov heard the familiar buzz of his communicator and retrieved it. He made sure he still kept his other arm around the little girl next to him. _

"_Hello?"_

"_Laddie are ya alright!" Scotty asked, obviously panicked. Chekov tried his best to remain as calm as possible._

"_Da but ze attacks are getting vorse. Zhere are bombs eweryvhere and I cannot risk moving any further. I hawe a little girl here vith me"._

"_Don't you worry, we're getting ya the hell out of there as soon as we get a lock on your signal. We found….here….know….others are…" _

_Static quickly overrode the message and Chekov slammed the communicator once against the floor in an attempt to fix it._

"_Mister Scott, are you still zhere? Something is interfering vith ze messages. You're not getting through!"_

_He waited a moment and was relieved to hear the Scotsman's voice clearly again._

"_I don't know how much longer I can get a signal, but we have a lock on both of you! We're beaming you up now!" Scotty shouted quickly._

_Chekov had no time to feel relief as an almighty crack split through the top of the ceiling and giant pieces of rubble came tumbling down. He glanced around quickly and watched as the walls began to give way. _

_The little girl began screaming again and she buried her face into the front of Chekov's shirt. Chekov repositioned himself so that his body was shielding as much of the child as he could. _

_The deafening sound of the building coming down was overwhelming. Chekov squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, the sound completely drowned out by the debris falling around him._

Chekov snaps awake, his entire body rigid as he suddenly sits up. Despite having open eyes, everything is dark. He's breathing heavily and can feel his heart pumping frantically, still reeling from the nightmare he's awoken from.

He looks around and his eyes try to adjust to the new setting. It's not completely dark, but it's so dimly lit that Chekov can barely see his own hand in front of his face. The floor beneath him is smooth and cold, mostly likely metallic.

He carefully stands. His legs wobble as regains his balance and he recoils as his bare feet connect with the freezing ground. It's then that he notices his shoes are missing as well as his jacket.

Chekov takes a moment to recall the last thing he remembers. There had been a man attacking him. He'd tried to call Sulu but wasn't quick enough. He'd been beaten pretty badly and knocked out.

Chekov consciously rubs the spot on his neck where the needle jabbed him full of a sleeping drug. He also feels the dried blood on his face where his nose must have eventually stopped bleeding. He looks around again, not a clue as to where he is or why he's even here.

From across the room, which Chekov deems isn't very big at all, a metal door slams open and thunderous footsteps quickly approach him.

He backs away until he feels himself pressed against the wall; equally cold and metallic to the floor. The figure looms over him. It's tall with at least four or five inches on the young boy.

"Come with me," a lowly voice orders. Chekov immediately recognizes it as belonging to the man that attacked him. He's immediately on guard with no intentions of going with him.

The man senses his defiance and growls. He reaches for the boy, but Chekov, despite his smaller height, is much more agile. He slips under the outstretched hand and makes a break for the door.

He's just barely crossing the threshold as he's jabbed in the upper back with a metal object and a pulse of electricity races through him.

Everything is on fire at once and all his nerves feels as though they're screaming to be extinguished. He' suddenly on the floor, convulsing violently. He can't focus on anything but the horrible pain riddling every part of him.

Chekov tries to grasp the floor but there is nothing to hold on to. His fingers spasm and brush against the smooth ground.

After what seems like an eternity, the spasms seem to die down. There's a crippling pain that still remains, but he's at least back in control of his own movements.

He feels the back of his shirt grabbed firmly and he's aggressively hauled to his feet.

"I wouldn't try that again, kid," the man threatens lowly. He throws Chekov forward causing the boy to stumble slightly.

"Walk," he orders. Chekov surveys the hallway he's in and realizes his chances of escape are slowly dwindling. No windows, no air vents, nothing. A single door lies ahead at the end of the hallway.

He's pushed forward by his captor and hesitantly begins walking. Chekov knows he's no match for this man and there's no telling what lies ahead or anywhere else in this place. He silently decides to do what he's told for now and wait, as hard as that may be.

As he moves along down the vacant hallway, Chekov's stomach drops at the thought of no one knowing what happened to him.

_Maybe they think you ran away, _he thinks.

Chekov can only hope that he's wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**Agh guys I am so sorry for the long wait between updates. Classes have been horrible lately and I have been finding less and less time to write. Nonetheless, here is the latest chapter. Enjoy reading and don't forget to tell me what you think! Have a lovely day!**

Sulu jumps as a knock on his door echoes throughout his apartment.

"Shit," he whispers to himself as he realizes this is actually about to happen. He sighs in trepidation and goes to answer the door. Before it's even open all the way, Scotty comes bursting through the door.

"WHAT'S WRONG? WHAT'S THE EMERGENCY? I AM HERE TO HELP!"

Sulu stares wide-eyed as the man vaults over the couch and begins surveying the room as if to find whatever seems to be wrong. He turns back towards the door as another body enters.

"I may have to mention now that he's had quite a bit to drink tonight," McCoy mutters. He winces as a vase goes crashing to the ground.

"I'll pay for that," Scotty calls. McCoy just hangs his head and sighs. After he enters, Uhura and Spock file in, Uhura immediately noticing the daunting look on Sulu's face.

"Well I knew things weren't going to be good when Leonard shuffled us all into the cars at four in the morning, but you look like someone's died. Is everything alright?" She smiles, trying to get her friend to do the same. Sulu cringes at the irony in her question.

"I think you should all just...sit down," Sulu breathes, not meeting Spock's questioning gaze. The four guests find a seat on the couch and two chairs situated in the living area, Scott more or less finding a spot with his arm draped drunkenly over the back of his seat.

They all look to Sulu expectantly, but he can't quite find the right words to begin.

"Well? What is it Sulu? I know you didn't just drag all of us out here for small talk at almost 4 am. What's going on?" McCoy asks, irritation seeping in his voice.

Sulu looks at all of his friends and takes a deep breath.

"Okay," he begins, even-toned. "Before I say anything else, you have to promise me something. You have to promise me that no matter what you think, you'll give me a chance to explain first".

If they weren't suspicious before, they sure as hell were now.

"I don't like the sound of this," McCoy says uneasily.

"Leonard, it's Sulu. Whatever he has to say, we'll listen. And we'll let him explain whatever he needs to, no matter what," Uhura gives Sulu an encouraging smile.

"Thank you," he nods back to her. "Alright then," Sulu breathes, turning towards his bedroom door. "You can, uh...you can come out now….Jim".

There's a moment where the only sound is that of a door creaking open.

And then there's a collective gasp as James Kirk, the guy who's supposed to be, well, dead, steps hesitantly into the room.

The silence that follows is so void of any noise, Sulu's afraid he's imagined the last three minutes, and his friends are still on their way right now.

But there they sit, eyes locked on their former friend, no words spoken at all.

Sulu's gazes flicks from Kirk to the others, waiting for something to happen. But nothing does.

Until McCoy makes the smallest sound Sulu's ever heard; so small that he would've missed it entirely if it wasn't just one word.

"Jim?"

Kirk looks up from the floor his eyes were locked on and makes eye contact with his friend for the first time in what has been more than a year. He smiles as the old doctor says his name, like it's the best thing he's heard all day.

Kirk takes a step forward "Bones I-" but he stops short as the doctor matches him by taking a step back. Sulu doesn't know why Kirk looks at him, but he does, and he can see the confusion in his friend's eyes. Sulu looks to McCoy, whose face shows anger. Sadness. Betrayal.

Hikaru watches Jim survey the gazes of his other friends. They all are lacking the emotion Sulu so thought would be present in this moment, and it scares him a bit. No one has said anything since McCoy, and Sulu's afraid that he's broken his family for good this time.

But then a low, even-toned voice speaks.

"How long?"

It's Nyota. Her stone-cold stare makes it clear she wants a straight answer, no lies, no evasions. The truth.

"About two months before the...accident," Sulu admits, hesitant on what term to use in mentioning Jim's "departure".

Uhura look as if she wants to shake her head in disbelief and cry, which at this point, would be a lot more tolerable than her complete sense of calm. Sulu can't get over how even her tone is, how expressionless her face is. The worst part is her eyes. They shine with a look akin to disappointment, something Sulu can't bear. He never wanted to hurt his family, never wanted to lie to them. He's broken their trust, and it's killing him on the inside at their lack of reaction to it all.

"So this whole time, you knew," she interprets flatly. Sulu nods. There's a beat, and she pauses a moment to think.

"Who else knew?" She asks.

Sulu knows better than to look directly at Spock, but does so anyway. It doesn't matter, because the Vulcan promptly raises his voice.

"I knew of the supposed "death" and the circumstances surrounding it," he says, choosing to meet Uhura's eyes rather than turn away. It would be shameful to look away now after all the pain he's caused her.

Uhura doesn't lash out, only seems to become more calculated with every action she takes.

"No one else?"

"There were a few others that you don't know, probably will never know, that helped with the cover up," Sulu says. "We decided that the less people that knew, the better".

"We," McCoy spits, finally choosing to speak. His comment is directed towards Jim, who looks so ashamed, it's a bit unnerving. Sulu speaks up again.

"We," he asserts firmly. Jim glances at him thankfully, though none of the previous tension is at all relieved.

There's an awkward silence between the six people in the room, and Sulu's wondering whether or not this was the best idea. He tries to push away the thought of what happens after this night. He's not gonna lie to himself: what happened this past year, all the shit he's put his friends through; it's not something anyone just bounces back from. He's facing the very real possibility that this may be it for his friends, for his team.

And there's no way he would ever blame them. He'd spent the past year trying to imagine what he'd think if the roles were switched. If he had no idea that his best friend was actually alive, would he be as understanding? He'd like to say yes, that he credits himself as a fair man, but sometimes things become too personal, and it becomes hard to separate logic from emotion. He can't trust that he'd be as level-headed as he thinks.

Sulu looks around and catches Uhura's gaze. He can decipher her emotions a little bit better now. She obviously looks betrayed, angry, hurt. But it's something in her eyes, the way the corner of her mouth just barely twitches, that causes Sulu to realize that these are the people he's been through hell and back with. He knows they're probably hurting more than ever right now, but he also knows that they deserve the truth. He knows that they've stuck with him all this time. They've been with him and Kirk through all the bad decisions and all the regrets. Sulu blinks once, readying himself . His family deserves an explanation. They need to know why he made his choices. It's the only way they'll understand.

"So I know you may not want to hear anything from me right now, but Kirk, Spock, and I, we need you to listen. We need you to hear our side of the story and the explanation behind everything that's happened this past year. It's gonna be a lot to take in, and I'll say right now that I understand any choice you make after tonight," Sulu begins. He looks to Kirk and nods. The older man takes in a deep breath, and speaks.

"I um...I guess I'll go from the beginning then," he starts. Kirk takes a seat in the last unoccupied chair and folds his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

"About fourteen months ago, I received a call from Section 31 concerning one of our recent missions. They told me very little in the beginning, but the one important detail they passed by me was that it had something to do with Khan".

There's a moment of tension as the realization settles upon the others. Kirk takes a moment before beginning again, but his interrupted.

"You said fourteen months ago. That places us three months after Khan was captured. How did this have anything to do with him?" McCoy asks, still clearly angered, but more focused on the situation at hand. Kirk slightly smiles. Sulu can tell that it's good to hear his old friend's voice again.

Jim acknowledges McCoy's comment and continues.

"That's what I thought too. I was suspicious and wanted to know why Khan was posing any threat while he was locked up somewhere in a cryo-tube. But then they explained everything to me. Do you remember Thomas Harewood?"

"Of course," Nyota comments, "He's the one that bombed the archives right before Khan showed up".

Kirk nods. "Well it turns out he wasn't the only one Khan met with before he began his attack on Starfleet".

Jim receives blank stares and suspicious glances, which isn't surprising.

"We were told Khan had limited contact with anyone after Admiral Marcus woke him up," McCoy mutters.

"You were lied to. There was a period of 18 unaccounted hours of time where Khan apparently met with several groups who more or less had a grudge against Starfleet. They swore loyalty to him. One in particular was more than convinced to do whatever he said, and most importantly, take over his mission should anything happen to him".

Kirk takes a minute, letting this new information settle with the others. It was true that he was furious upon finding out this new information at first.

"After Khan was captured and locked away, several higher ups in Starfleet administration went missing. They were found beaten and tortured and said they'd been questioned as to where Khan and the other cryo tubes were being kept".

"Starfleet thought it was Khan's followers?" Uhura guesses.

"Yes."

"Well then what this has to do with you or any of us?" McCoy asks, clearly annoyed and still confused as to where this explanation is going.

"Well" Kirk begins again, "after a while, things went silent. There were no more kidnappings, no more suspicious activity, nothing. Then out of nowhere, they nearly took Spock. That's when Section 31 finally decided to contact me".

Uhura turns sharply towards the Vulcan next to her.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" She asks, a hint of sadness seeping in her voice.

"I thought it right to not worry you seeing as nothing severe had happened," Spock replies evenly. Sulu watches Nyota turn away, accepting the answer for now; but clearly the conversation is far from over.

Kirk takes the next pause in conversation as his chance to continue explaining.

"They told me that this group of men, the one's who'd kidnapped all the others, was after me. I was among the few people who was provided with the coordinates to Khans location after his capture. Somehow that information found its way to this group, and they sought after me. The agents at Section 31 said that the group was planning on finding me and getting the information they needed, no matter who they had to get through. When I found out that this and Spock's near capture were linked, I had to make a decision".

"So you just left," McCoy mumbles flatly. Kirk looks like he's taken a punch to the gut.

"Trust me when I say I tried to think of every. alternative. But each one had too many risks, too many variables. In the end, I had to do what I did. I didn't want to leave, but I couldn't risk anything happening to any of you".

McCoy clearly isn't accepting the younger man's answer, and raises his voice slightly.

"Why lie to us? Did you not trust us enough to keep this secret? You'd rather just try and trick us like you did everyone else?"

"I wanted to! Damn it all, I would have given anything to even just send a letter telling you I was alive. But it wasn't an option. If those men caught word that any of you might have had some sort of information that I was still alive, they would have stopped at nothing to get it out of you. These guys aren't playing. They kill people. The ones that are found are lucky. Some are still missing and God knows if they're even still alive.I would never have been able to live with myself if that happened to any of you. Having Sulu and Spock know was already risky enough and I couldn't put anyone else in danger. Believe me when I say that you were the only thing I was thinking about the months I was gone. Leaving was the only option, and if meant keeping all of you safe, I'd make it again". Sulu knows that every word Kirk has said is true. The older man looks as if this entire ordeal has taken a toll on him, and as pissed off as Sulu is at Kirk right now about coming back, he feels for him, and he knows deep down that there's no logical reason Kirk would ever put them in danger on purpose.

There's a heavy silence,

"What did you do?" McCoy asks, teeth clenched. "And I want to know the truth. There's no way you spent the last 14 months hiding in some crummy old hideout".

"After I "died"," Kirk uses air quotes as emphasis, "I contacted Section 31. Spock had already helped with the cover up seeing as he'd been informed of the circumstances of his near-kidnapping, but I needed help reaching out to the agents. That's why Sulu knew. He's had ties to that place tracing all the way back to his grandfather and I knew he could help me. When I proposed the idea of going undercover, the administration was hesitant. But the more I talked about possibly taking down this operation from the inside, the more convinced they got. They agreed and I had access to their digital facial-reconstruction technology. It helped to visually change my features enough so that I was unrecognizable. It's why no one ever made the connection of who I really was".

McCoy huffs in disbelief.

"So 12 months just acting as if you're a totally different person. Like your past life meant nothing".

"You know that' not true," Kirk's tone is almost pleading; just wanting his oldest friend to understand.

"Well frankly I'm having a difficult time right now trying to figure out what's really true or not. So excuse the hell out of me for doubting the word of someone who's supposed to be dead!"

Sulu notices the riff beginning to form and chooses the moment to intervene. "Leonard calm down," he says evenly.

"Don't pander to me, Hikaru," Leonard spits pointedly, "You knew this entire time and not once did you want to tell any of us".

Sulu sighs. How he wishes he could have said something. "Kirk already told you what would have happened. I couldn't".

McCoy rolls his eyes and utters an exhale of disbelief.

"You couldn't? Or you wouldn't?"

"No I couldn't!"

"Hey!" Kirk calls loudly, effectively silencing the room. He focuses his words on Leonard and Hikaru. "How about everyone just take a deep breath and chill the hell out. I understand why you're upset, I this isn't Sulu's fault and it's not Spock's either. This was my decision and mine alone," he says firmly.

"Then why didya come back? Why now?" McCoy asks, anger lacing his voice.

There's a moment of silence, and Kirk mentally prepares his next round of explanations.

"They found out I wasn't dead".

Sulu watches Leonard's expression crumble for a moment, and he can almost see the Doctor McCoy he knows best; the one whose loyalty to his friends is unmatched by nothing but his care for them.

"What? How? I'm sorry if I'm mistaken but wasn't the point of you going undercover to avoid that?" The old doctor rattles on.

"If I knew that I would have already taken care of it," Kirk says just a bit too sarcastically. Sulu internally curses at his friend's lack of tone control even in a time like this. "The problem is that I don't and now that they know I'm alive, we're in a whole hell of a lot of trouble. The morning I left, they'd had already begun planning on finding all of you. I needed to come back to warn you. This past year has been for nothing, but I can still try and fix it."

McCoy crosses his arms, knowing that Kirk's explanation is far from finished. Sulu watches the man raise an eyebrow before asking his next question.

"So then what do you plan on doing now? You've got us all here, so clearly you're compact mind has some idea floating through it," he says.

Sulu looks at Kirk, who is clearly now at a loss for words. How are they supposed to explain that the one thing Kirk had been trying to prevent, happened?

"We wanted everyone to be together," Sulu starts, choosing his words like he's walking across a minefield "...to make sure no one got hurt. But…"

He stops short, the recent memories of the apartment; all the images of blood on the floor and the broken glass washing over him in a single instant.

"But what?" McCoy prompts the younger man to continue.

"What else aren't you telling us?" Nyota asks warily, sounding somewhat afraid to hear about anymore secrets being kept.

"It's Chekov," Kirk finally says. "He's….he's gone".

There's a single moment that passes before McCoy is up and out of his seat like the entire room is on fire.

"Gone? What the hell do you mean gone? Why didn't you say something earlier!" He shouts in disbelief.

The sudden rush of emotion from the doctor causes Sulu to jump back, and he sees Kirk mull over the response for a moment before getting slightly angry at his older friend.

"I wasn't just going to show up out of nowhere and tell you he was missing! How well do you think that would have gone over?"

"Well it would have been better than sitting around here wondering where the kid is!"

"HEY!" Sulu screams. He's now slightly full of adrenaline from yelling so much tonight, and he can feel his heart pumping with every word he says. "Listen to me. Arguing is going to get us nowhere. Now I know everyone isn't on the best of terms now. Trust me, I understand. But right now, Chekov needs us. If it were one of us out there right now, missing and alone, he wouldn't waste time arguing over something like this. He'd be out there spending every waking second trying to find us. We called you here for your help and we are asking you for it now".

The others exchange glances. There is a moment of silence where nothing is said, and everyone's eyes are trained to the ground.

"You think that they...the men, you think they had something to do with this?" Nyota finally asks.

Kirk nods. "There's no doubt in my mind about it. And the fact that he's probably with that group right now means we're running out of time, We need to find out where they took him and bring him home. This is exactly what I wanted to prevent by leaving. And I know that I can probably never make up for what I did, but I'm sorry you all got caught up in this. I'm sorry for the pain I caused and the wrong I did, but I want to try and fix that all now. You don't need to forgive me or forget what happened or even try to. But I need you to help me. I need you to trust me like you used to. And I need you to help me find our little brother".

Kirk's words hang in the air, the eerie silence of the night enveloping them. He looks to all of his friends. This is his family, the people he'd do anything for. There's a moment of hesitation where he thinks his words haven't been enough.

The first to step forward is Scotty. The man who hadn't said a word since he arrived and broke one of Sulu's favorite vases, who Sulu believed was probably too out of it to even comprehend the situation at hand, is the first to approach Kirk, confidence set on his still slightly drunk face.

"You don't know the half of what you put us through. What you put me through. But I'll be damned if that's going to change my judgement of you," He says affirmatively. He takes a moment to steady himself. He's still wobbly from all the drinking, but Sulu can tell he's set on making this moment count.

It's…" Scotty hesitates, taking another moment for himself.

"It's good to have you back, Jim". He pulls the younger man into a hug. "We'll find those bastards and get the laddie back before they know what hit him".

Jim pulls back from the hug and offers a smile. "Thank you," he whispers.

Scotty nods back in acknowledgement and stands by Kirk and Sulu. Kirk glances at Spock, who has already begun his way towards the other three men.

"I would find that it is more than obvious that I will stand by your decisions, especially now in the process of rescuing Ensign Chekov," he speaks honestly.

Kirk acknowledges his friend's loyalty and turns back to the remaining two. Sulu watches Uhura glance at McCoy before turning her attention back to the four other men across the room.

She stands gracefully and strides towards the captain. She points a single finger in his face and her eyes narrow dangerously.

"If you ever do anything like that again, I will kick your ass. You'll be lucky if you can walk by the time you retire," she threatens. Her jaw clenches and her eyes glance over her friend. "We'll get him back," she whispers confidently. She embraces him quickly before going to stand by Spock.

There's another period of silence as five pairs of eyes glance at the remaining member of their family. McCoy's arms are crossed, and he isn't afraid to look each and every other person straight in the eye. His gaze lands on Jim, and he stands there, motionless.

Kirk can't imagine what the old doctor is feeling in that moment, but he knows him well enough to understand what's going through his mind.

McCoy looks to the ceiling and exhales deeply. "God help me," he mumbles.

Kirk smiles the biggest smile he's had in a long, long time as his oldest friend walks towards him, the scowl he'd missed for so long painted on his face like it had never left.

McCoy stops in front of him, his face set in determination.

"Let's go get our Russian," he says.


	6. Chapter 6

Chekov can feel his heart racing as he is led closer to the door at the end of the hallway he's walking through. The man behind him follows closely, probably making sure he won't try any more escape attempts.

Chekov still cringes from the pain of the voltage stick with every step. The spot on his back where it connected with him burns profusely; no doubt slowly becoming worse the longer it's left untreated. He tries to step carefully as to not worsen the pain, but it's proven very difficult.

They reach the end of the hallway and the man wrenches open the polished steel door. Placing his hand on Chekov's shoulder, he shoves the boy roughly into the room. He slams the door shut, leaving the young Russian even more scared and alone than before.

Or so he thinks.

The room is much better lit than the place he'd woken up in. It's rather large with crates and cargo boxes lining the walls. There's a metal loading dock door on the far wall, but it looks long abandoned and rusted shut. He eliminates the possibility of it serving as an emergency exit.

Chekov jumps, slightly startled by the sudden presence of another person. A man is leaning against a stack of wooden crates, watching the boy carefully. Chekov wonders how he hadn't noticed him before.

"I have to say that when my friends told me they'd be bringing me a valuable resource, I didn't expect a kid to show up," the man speaks with a casual tone.

Almost unconsciously, Chekov feels a little insulted: he's just turned twenty, so technically he's not a kid anymore. The man senses his uneasiness and smiles. "Not a kid then? Hmm," he murmurs, slowly beginning to pace the room, circling Chekov as he does so. It causes the younger boy to follow him with his eyes. Being observed and watched like some kind of experiment is putting him slightly on edge, his heart rate steadily rising again.

"You look like you should be running hallways back at the academy, not navigating a ship," the man concludes. Chekov is just about ready to go on his normal "ability over age" rant when he catches himself and wonders how this stranger knows so much about him. His eyes must show clear confusion, because at once the man apologizes.

"This all must be very overwhelming. I'm Jareth," he says politely, even going as far to extend a hand to shake. He looks at Chekov expectantly.

"You already know who I am, don't you?" Chekov asks skeptically, carefully eyeing Jareth's hand. Jareth sighs and lowers his hand to his side.

"Not very polite, are you?"

Chekov finds strength in his voice. "Not to people like you," he answers.

Jareth's head tilts slightly to the right as if contemplating the young boy before him. Chekov finds this posture unnerving. The man's stare is just calculated enough to make him look like he's crazy.

"People like me?" He asks curiously. Chekov doesn't respond and Jareth laughs.

"Obviously you are no fun at all or someone's taught you very well when it comes to stranger danger," he jibes. "Perhaps your mother or father? An older sibling?"

Jareth's tone quickly drops and he speaks gravely. "Or maybe even a close friend…Someone you've worked with and trusted for a long time…"

Alarm bells blare inside Chekov's head as he continues to follow Jareth with his eyes, sensing that something is indeed very, very wrong. He wants something; something that Chekov can only assume has to do with his friends

Jareth glances his way and Chekov tries to conceal his anxious expression.

"No one then?" He asks as he approaches the younger boy.

"No," Chekov answers firmly. Jareth nods his head in acceptance.

"Alright then," he acknowledges and turns toward the door. There's an instant where Chekov wonders what kind of exchange just happened and what this odd man is planning.

And then suddenly Jareth turns, pulls back his arm, and punches forward. Chekov can' t move fast enough to avoid the hit and he feels his head snap to the left as a fist connects with his face. He tumbles to the ground, dazed.

He's on both his hands and knees trying to blink the stars out of his eyes. His right cheek is stinging painfully and there's a small amount of blood dripping from a cut on his upper lip. Chekov brings his hand to his face and feels the tender skin throbbing lightly beneath his touch. He looks up and sees Jareth's smug face looking down on him.

"Before we talk anymore, let me make one thing clear: you lie to me, you won't like the consequences. Tell me what I want to hear," he says, grinning, "then you and I will get along just fine. Understand?".

Chekov suddenly feels sick to his stomach. The bruise forming on his cheek now seems trivial compared to what could lie ahead. His head is spinning a mile a minute and he's slowly realizing how much trouble he's in right now.

Jareth grabs a handful of Chekov's hair and yanks his head backward so that he's looking him straight in the eye.

"I expect a response when I ask you a question," he orders harshly, tightening his grip.

Chekov breathes evenly through his nose to calm his rapidly beating heart.

"Okay," he meekly responds.

Jareth nods and releases his hold, roughly shoving Chekov towards the floor. "Good," he mumbles.

Chekov rubs the back of his head to alleviate the pain. The sudden movements of the last few minutes have also agitated the burn on his back and it now stings even more severely than before.

"Now," Jareth says, standing directly in front of Chekov, "let's have a little talk about James Kirk, shall we?"

Everything inside Chekov freezes and he can swear his heart skips a few beats. The air suddenly feels dry and stale. He finds it hard to breathe.

"W…what?" he brokenly gasps.

Jareth grins a sickly smile. "Seems my colleagues were right about a reliable information source. Now tell me," he says in a disturbingly polite tone, "how long have you known that Kirk has been alive?"

Chekov isn't quite sure why he answers with what he does. But there's about a three second window between answering and what he guesses is potentially giving away one of his oldest friends, and his first instinct is to protect that friend no matter what.

"He's dead. He died a long time ago," Chekov answers, his eyes fixated on the ground. Even saying it brings an ache to his chest, but he says it nonetheless. His answer is immediately met with a kick to the stomach. Pain explodes across his abdomen and he curls into himself, coughing violently.

"I'm not exactly in the joking mood!" Jareth yells, his harsh voice echoing off the walls. "Now I asked you a question: How long have you known that James Kirk is alive!"

Chekov moans. He's pretty sure he's got a bruised rib, if not broken. The kick was harder than he first thought.

"I…I didn't know he was alive," he answers, a cough interrupting him.

Jareth is incredibly fast and grabs the front Chekov's shirt, pulling the boy forward until he's a few inches from his face.

"I thought we had an agreement, _Pavel,_" he spits sarcastically. He reaches back and punches once more. Chekov groans and stars explode before his eyes. He feels blood trickle down the side of his face, a cut burning the top of his forehead.

"Now I will ask one. more. time." Jareth threatens lowly. "How long have you known that Jim Kirk is alive?"

Chekov feels incredibly dizzy and the room is tilting dangerously. He blinks twice, still unable to see clearly. It's like a fog has settled over his mind but he can still clearly recognize one thought: that he is going to die if he doesn't do what this man asks of him. Chekov runs through his options. Perhaps this small bit of information won't be that damning. It's clear they know that Kirk is alive, what difference does it make if one other person knows too?

"I hawen't known for long" he mutters lightly, "I only found out yesterday".

Jareth's eyes widen in surprise and Chekov can see the thoughts in his head racing. The other man's expression quickly darkens and he pulls back his hand once more. Chekov cringes, awaiting the pain.

"If you're lying," he warns.

"I'm noot I svear!" Chekov pleads desperately. Jareth studies him for a moment, but doesn't lower his hand.

"This…this could change everything then," the older man begins to talk excitedly to himself. "You only just found out. Which means Kirk was with you recently! My god he slipped right out from under us! He must have told you himself," Jareth guesses correctly. Then he looks to the boy in his grasp, "which means he's probably noticed your disappearance".

There's a pause and then a frightening smirk slithers its way onto Jareth's face. "Which means he'll probably be looking for you" he mumbles in realization.

"You my friend," Jareth says; and his tone is frightening enough to send chills up Chekov's spine, "have just become a very valuable resource". He tightens his grip on the front of Chekov's shirt and punches one last time.

It's the last thing the young boy sees before his world is dark once again.

* * *

><p>…<p>

…

_He can hear screaming, but the sound of a collapsing building is gone. Chekov slowly opens his eyes and blinks, the sudden presence of a bright light blinding his eyes. _

_He still has his arms wrapped tightly around the young girl next to him who is once again crying, wet tears tracing down her dust-covered face. Chekov shakes his head and an entire pile of dirt and debris spills from his curls._

_He coughs a few times, evacuating his lungs of the stale, dirty air he'd inhaled. He then surveys his surroundings. He's back in the transporter room. A familiar man in a red shirt is running towards him. _

_"__Laddie yer okay! My God we were so worried we'd not get there in time!" Scotty slaps a hand against his forehead in relief. "This amount of stress isn't good for ma heart," he breathes. _

_The Scotsman glances at Chekov and notices the extra passenger with him. "Well who's this then?" he asks. _

_Before Chekov can even admit he doesn't know the little girl's name, a siren blares through the room and the hallways connecting to it. The little girl covers her ears and begins screaming. _

_"__God damn it!" Scotty yells out in frustration. _

_"__Vhat's happening?!" Chekov yells above the chaotic noise. Scotty runs back over towards the console and reaches for his comm. _

_"__Jim!" He yells frantically into the small device. "Jim ye bastard answer me! The atmosphere is starting to liquefy! We've got about five minutes before this entire ship is under a bloody ocean!"_

_Chekov had nearly forgotten the time limit they were on since arriving on this strange planet. When they'd been called in to monitor and put an end to local terroristic attacks, they were warned that the planet was unusual in that its atmosphere took on two different states of matter during separate parts of the day._

_For 12 hours it was a normal gaseous atmosphere with breathable oxygen. The next 12 hours was when the water vapor in the air expanded and returned back to its liquid state. The natives on the planet were very much used to this rapid change of environment and were born half-aquatic to compensate for it. The Enterprise and all of its crew however, were not. They'd been watching the time carefully all day but since the attacks had started, no one had been paying much attention. _

_Oops._

_From the comm, Jim's voice reverberates off the walls. "Hear you loud and clear, Scotty!" he yells. "The attacks are dying down! Spock and his team captured the head of the attackers but we still have a few scattered down in engineering!" _

_There's a gap in the conversation where only the sounds of Jim yelling and grunting can be heard. There's a clashing of metal and then he's back. _

_"__Send reinforcements to B deck!" he orders. "I can handle the last few here but we need back up to help Spock get the leader to the brig!"_

_"__Aye, aye, sir!" Scotty replies, typing away commands on his PADD. "Are you sure you're alright down there Jim?" He asks, concerned. _

_Jim answers, panting from what Chekov can assume is the constant fighting. "I'm fine. I've got Sulu down here with me. Just make sure that security gets to the brig. Make sure that they get to Spo-"_

_And then there's a sound that will haunt Chekov's nightmares for endless months to come._

_It's a sharp, inward gasp of breath followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. Scotty looks to Chekov in shock for a moment before turning his full attention back to the comm._

_"__Jim?" He asks. "Jim!"_

_There's no response. _

_Chekov is out the door faster than he's ever run before, yelling back over his shoulder for Scotty to watch over the little girl he left behind._

_Left. Right. Down a flight of stairs. Right. Right. Down again. Left. Down. Right. The path to engineering is seared into Chekov's memory at this point. Though he doesn't believe he's ever traveled it this quickly before. _

_He's through the single metal door to B deck and racing down the catwalk stairs, taking them two at a time and then jumping down the last five. Chekov runs frantically throughout the machines lining the floor, looking left and right; searching._

_He comes to the center of the deck and is panting as he cranes his head, his body turning 360 degrees as he surveys the area. _

_There, just a few yards in front of him, is a pair of legs sticking out from behind a row of control panels. He takes off towards them and all but slides into place next to Jim, who is sloppily propped up against a metal machine. _

_"__Keptin," Chekov whispers breathlessly. He takes in the sight before him, his stomach dropping as he does so. There's a hole, a literal __**freaking **__hole in the middle of Kirk's chest about an inch in diameter. There's blood staining his golden shirt and his eyes are weary and glazing over._

_Chekov looks around frantically for something to help but he stops when he watches Kirk begin to close his eyes. He grabs Kirk's face between both his hands. _

_"__Listen to me," he says sternly, "you hold on for me. Ve are going to get you help, okay? Joost focus on breathing and keeping your eyes open"._

_Kirk looks back at the younger boy before him. "You're going to be safe," he says softly. "Stay strong and don't let anything hold you down. You're going to be safe". _

_Jim's eyes flutter for a moment before slipping shut completely. Chekov stares in disbelief for a moment, shocked at what's just happened. _

_"__No," he says firmly, shaking Jim's face slightly. _

_"__No"._

_He places two fingers against his Captain's neck and feels for the familiar presence of a pulse. He waits for ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty…and nothing happens. _

_"__No," he mutters, hot tears dripping from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. "No"._

_He shakes Kirk's shoulders this time, thinking that maybe it will be enough to make the older man stir._

_It's in vain._

_There's dried blood coating his hands, but Chekov can't even see it through his blurry eyes. He screams out, his pain-filled voice echoing throughout the cavernous ceilings of the room. _

_He's still screaming when the others find him, and he's all but dragged away from the horrific scene. Someone's arms are then wrapped tightly around him and all he can see is the tint of blue of fabric. He sobs into whoever's shoulder loudly, tears dampening the shirt he's crying on. _

_Whoever holds him is crying too because he can feel their arms shaking slightly. _

_Chekov can't focus on anything. The only coherent thought racing around his head is that his brother is dead. _

_And he can't handle that. _

_He cries until he can't cry anymore. And when that happens, he falls asleep. When he wakes, he cries again until it seems like all his tears have been spent. Then he sits in silence for a few hours in the darkness, his chest aching an awful, unhealable pain. _

_"__Please come back," he whispers tearfully to himself. "Please come back". _

_"__Please"._

_"__Come back"._

_"__Please just come back"._

_"__Come back, come back, come back…"_

"Come back," Chekov startles himself awake. He immediately recognizes the racing pulse and the rapid breathing that usually follow his nightmares. He looks around and sees that he's in the room he'd first woken up in.

He backs up until he's against the wall and pulls his knees into his chest. His entire body is shaking. He sobs a few times before the tears slowly begin to make their way down his cheeks. He sits there alone, scared, and in the dark.

And he cries.


	7. Chapter 7

Sulu knows that this is a bad idea; he knew it would be a bad idea the second the thought left Kirk's lips.

But hell, here he is anyway, fingers anxiously drumming against his arm rest. He watches as lights pass by in a blur. He, Kirk, and Spock are driving through the city, the dark streets all but abandoned at this hour. The others follow behind in a separate car. Sulu wasn't all that surprised when they split up this way. Frankly he's more surprised he's made it out of this whole encounter unscathed.

He was expecting some kind of altercation; or at least a punch or two to be thrown. He assumed his friends would be furious at him for lying this long. Like he keeps telling himself, he wouldn't have blamed them for that, but now he wishes they had reacted like he was expecting. This whole "suppressed anger" and "understanding" his friends are displaying is making him feel even worse. Sulu feels he deserved to be punched and screamed at; that he deserves his friends' hatred.

But they'd been nothing if not completely understanding. Sure they seemed obviously upset, but they're complete acceptance of his deception makes him feel even more guilty.

Sulu thinks he should consider himself lucky: his friends put aside their qualms about the situation almost immediately to help. But then again, what else would he expect? As angry as they could ever be, these people are his family and they've always promised to be there for each other. Now they're here, proving their promise, and Sulu can't even put into words how grateful he is for that.

A sudden pothole in the road jostles Sulu out of his thoughts.

"Whoops, sorry," Kirk mumbles, eyes firmly on the road before him. He's leading them to, from what Sulu's been told, a bar the group Kirk had been undercover with frequented on most nights. Everyone had argued before setting out about Kirk even going near the place again, but he'd insisted that he'd be able to help. He argued that the men already knew he was alive, so that it made no difference whether or not he was recognized.

Sulu had countered with the logic of keeping Pavel safe. God forbid something happened and Kirk was captured, then what use would they have for the boy anymore? They wouldn't hesitate to get rid of any evidence. Kirk had vehemently replied that no, that wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let himself get caught, but even the others had doubts.

The argument was settled when Kirk reasoned about his role as an asset in seeking out the people that could help them find Chekov. He knew about the hideouts, the seedy bars, the underground meeting places. If anyone knew where to start and finish, it was him. And not only that, he knew how to handle these guys. He knew what to do if anything hit the fan.

So with everyone in agreement, they'd set off for the shadier part of the city, hoping to find some answers.

Sulu watches as they pull into the dimly lit parking lot of a small tavern. It has a faded neon sign with a missing letter pointing to a staircase that leads down underground. Kirk turns off the car and puts his hood up (the longer it takes for anyone to recognize him the better) and they all follow close to each other, but still act normally so not to raise suspicion.

The first thing Sulu notices when he walks in is the overwhelming presence of smoke in the air. He's barely inside for a minute before he's coughing from the lack of clean oxygen. None of the other bar-goers take notice of them, seeing as they're probably too unfocused and drunk to see through the fog-like smoke. The bartender keeps a close eye on them for a moment, but goes back to working the counter as another customer orders a drink.

Kirk nods towards a door on the far end of the room. Everyone receives the signal and causally makes their way towards it. The second everyone's through and the door shuts, Sulu draws in a deep breath of clean air.

"Not the best place in the world I'll admit," Kirk says, taking in the familiar setting. He turns to his right. "This way," he instructs.

Sulu steps carefully across the fading hardwood floor. It's rather inconvenient because it squeaks so loudly that anyone expecting them would hear people coming long before they reached them. Luckily for Sulu and everyone else, they aren't expecting them. At least that's what he hopes.

They reach the end of an extended hallway and stop in front of a heavy wooden door. Kirk motions for everyone to stay still and quiet. He leans against the door to listen in and then smiles. Sulu doesn't question, but only watches as the older man stands straight up and taps a series of knocks on the door. He waits a few seconds before a viewing slot glides open and Sulu can only see the eyes of whoever is behind the door.

Almost instantaneously, Kirk musters all his strength and kicks the door in, taking the man on the other side down with it.

Sulu's in shock for a few moments, as is everyone else, as Kirk storms the room with his phaser drawn. He shouts something about standing down and when Sulu peaks in, he can see one other man, early twenties probably, standing in the corner of the room. Whoever answered the door is lying unconscious on the ground, but the guy staring down the front end of a phaser is still fully awake; and not very happy by the looks of it.

"What the hell are you doing?" He shouts angrily.

"As much as I loved to tell you," Kirk says sarcastically, "I suggest you kick your weapons over here before my finger slips". The man looks at him skeptically.

"I'm unarmed," he replies.

Kirk tightens his grip on his gun and steps closer. "Bullshit. I don't have time for lies. Now kick it over here," he orders harshly. The other man still sports a hateful scowl but he slowly reaches down to his boot and, to everyone but Kirk's surprise, retrieves a small gun and kicks it across the room.

"There," the boy spits. "Now what do you want?"

Sulu steps next to Kirk, not quite sure of what to do, but ready to provide backup should he need it.

"I want answers," Kirk replies. "And unless you'd like to permanently see the insides of your eyelids for the rest of your life, I suggest you give me what I came for".

Sulu feels a nervous tremor travel through him. Kirk is taking no time in administering threats. He wonders if maybe all that time undercover affected him more than he's letting on…

Sulu stares at the object of the threat and wonders how a boy so young got caught up in something so sinister.

The guy almost reminds him of Chekov in a way. The resemblance stops at the thin, lanky figure, but the youth on the boy's face causes an unreachable pain in Sulu's chest. It saddens him to see such a young life wasted on such practices at the same time it reignites the fire in his stomach he's been keeping at bay since Chekov first disappeared.

Sulu side eyes Kirk as the older man continues.

"Where would Maxim have taken prisoners?" Kirk asks straightforward. Sulu recalls that name from when Kirk had done a debrief on the way here. He's the right hand man to the leader of the group; the "muscles" Kirk had called him.

The younger boy across the room narrows his eyes, but there's a hint of fear that flashes across his face. Sulu can see it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says.

In an instant, Kirk is across the room throwing the boy against the wall and pinning him to it with his free arm. There's a gasp from someone else and Sulu's already right behind Kirk.

"I told you not to lie to me," Kirk threatens through gritted teeth. The boy, now obviously terrified, begins to panic.

"I-I told you! I don't know what you're talking about! I mean-I mean I do, but I don't know where!"

Kirk presses his arm harder against the younger man's chest, gaining a small yelp of pain.

"I don't believe you're telling me the whole truth," he says angrily.

Sulu puts a wary hand on his friend's shoulder. "Kirk, take it easy," he says evenly, "he's just a kid".

Kirk doesn't break eye contact with the boy before him. "So is Chekov, Sulu. Did you remember that? Did you know that this _kid _could point us to exactly where we need to go?"

As much as Sulu understands where the older man is coming from, he knows he can't force himself to watch this happen any longer.

"And what if he's telling the truth and he doesn't know? What if he's just some kid caught up in a bad situation?" Sulu offers.

"You don't know what he's done. How many people he may have killed," Kirk replies.

Sulu speaks firmly. "And neither do you, Jim". He looks at the boy Kirk is all but lifting up off the ground and sees that the kid is practically on the verge of tears.

"What's your name?" Sulu asks.

"R-Reggy," the boy stutters as he struggles to breathe calmly. Sulu looks to Kirk and the older man sets the boy down, albeit hesitantly. "Do you have parents Reggy?"

The boy shakes his head and stares at the ground. "They died a long time ago. My brother's been takin' care of me since".

Sulu feels some kind of sympathy for the kid. Losing your parents is one thing, but to have a brother get caught up in something like this and then drag you into it too? This boy is more lost than threatening.

Sulu decides to take a different approach. This time he speaks with a calmer, more understanding tone.

"I can assure you that you'll be under Starfleet protection from here on out," Sulu promises despite the death stare he knows Kirk is currently giving him. "But I need you to help us out. You see me and him here," Sulu says, nodding to Kirk, "we're big brothers too and our little brother is missing. And we're trying to find him. But the only way we're gonna be able to do that is with your help. Do you think you're up for it?"

Reggy stays quiet for a moment, contemplating the offer.

"What about my brother," he asks. "What's gonna happen to him?"

Sulu internally sighs, knowing that there's almost nothing he can do for this elder brother. But he tries to negotiate nonetheless.

"I'm sorry to say I can't promise anything concerning your brother," he answers honestly, "but I will do everything in my power to make sure you stay safe and get out of this business, alright?"

Reggy looks up for the first time and stares at Sulu. He takes a minutes before drawing in a deep breath and nodding his head.

"I'm tellin' the truth when I say I don't know where they keep them. But I do know that Maxim and his closer pals meet in the back room of this diner off of 4th street. If anyone'll know where they're keepin' your brother, it's them".

"Are they there often?"

Reggy nods. "Well the others are. Maxim never really shows his face much when they…" he hesitates, "when they have someone. But if you go there, there's bound to be someone who can tell you where they keep them".

Sulu glances at Kirk, who seems to believe the information given, then back to Reggy.

"Is there anywhere safe you can go?" Sulu asks the boy.

"My cousin's place is only a few blocks from here," Reggy replies. "I lay low there sometimes when things get too heated".

Sulu nods. "Head there as soon as we leave and don't talk to anyone else, got it? We'll make sure the police take care of him," he nods towards the unconscious figure under the broken door.

"Got it," the boy replies.

Sulu turns toward his friends who are more or less staring at him agape. Frankly, he's not quite sure how he managed that either, but he thanks whatever higher power there is that he was able to do it.

…

…

…

As everyone makes their way out towards the parking lot, Kirk falls behind to walk in step with Sulu.

"Hey, uh...Thanks for...for being so level-headed back there," he manages. Sulu just shakes his head.

"Just tried to reason with him as best I could," he admits.

Kirk purses his lips. "I know but...I don't know. Something came over me. Like this sudden wave of anger and hatred and I didn't know how to stop it. Next thing I knew the kid was up against the wall and I'm there screaming in his face. It felt awful. I'm keep thinking the only thing that kept me from doing any more damage was seeing Chekov's face every time I yelled. That kid was too young to be caught up in any of this. Just like Pavel is". Kirk's gaze is locked on the ground and Sulu can see how much his friend is hurting.

"Listen," Sulus begins, "you've just spent the last year with a group of men who wouldn't have hesitated to pull the trigger the second the kid said he didn't have any information. That's heavy stuff, Kirk. You don't just walk out of that kind of life and expect things to be the way they were before".

Sulu stops walking and puts a comforting hand on Kirk's shoulder.

"We're gonna find Chekov no matter what it takes," Sulu promises. "But you need to focus on keeping your head in check and don't go throwing people into walls the second they don't answer your question, okay?"

Kirk smiles slightly and nods his head in understanding. "Okay, I think I can manage that," Kirk agrees. "But only as long as they don't piss me off".

Sulu rolls his eyes. As much as he appreciates this moment of happiness, it's overshadowed by their current mission. They're running out of time with every passing second, and he knows that every minute from here on out counts.

"Come on," he picks up his pace towards the car once more. "The night's not getting any younger".

As he slides into the driver's seat (there's no way he's letting Kirk drive again after hitting that many potholes) he looks up to the clear sky and wonders how such a beautiful night can house such horrible events. He wonders if Chekov is looking up at these same stars now and hoping someone is on the way to help him.

"Don't worry, Pavel," Sulu whispers to the frigid night, "we're coming for you".


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone! I'm afraid I'll have to get the apology out of the way before the chapter begins. I'm really very sorry about the lack of updates. I've just been so busy I've kind of lost track of time. Let me just say that college classes are so much more sucky than High School Classes. Also, I've been working more hours at the Acme near my house and that hasn't been too unforgiving either. Basically I've had about zero free time the past month. But I apologize and I'm gonna really try to get another update out soon for you guys. I hope you all have a lovely day and don't forget to review!**

Chekov has been sitting in silence for a while before they come again. The tears have long since dried on his face and all he can feel is bitter about everything.

He wonders if anyone really is looking for him. Then he wonders if he even wishes anyone is looking for him.

The door across the room swings open suddenly and no sooner is Jareth walking into the room followed by two men. One of them is the muscled man that brought Chekov here.

"Hello Pavel," Jareth smiles. The sight makes Chekov feel sick.

The older man places a small box on a stack of crates on the opposite side of the room. The object isn't hard to identify, Chekov's seen it plenty of times before. It's a holo-camera, one that films normally and plays back a digital hologram.

Jareth looks at the boy. "You must be confused. Well not to worry, kid. We're simply sending a message to your friends. You know, the ones who haven't come for you yet?"

The statement feels like a punch in the stomach to Chekov. But of course he doesn't listen this twisted man. He's only trying to manipulate him.

Jareth nods towards Chekov. "Maxim, Thorne". Both men he'd entered with grab Chekov by the arms and haul him to his feet. Chekov barely struggles knowing his odds against these guys in a fight.

Jareth taps the top of the holo-camera next to him and a tiny blue light flicker to life. He turns to Chekov, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Let's begin shall we?"

Chekov tries to remember the last time he's felt this much pain. Every hit hurts ten times more than the last. He recalls when he was badly beaten one time back at Starfleet Academy. He'd come out of it with a badly broken leg and a few bruised ribs. It would have been much worse had Sulu not come to his rescue at the last minute. Chekov thinks pain like that would be a blessing right now.

Jareth is merciless. Each blow is forceful and calculated. Chekov is already doubling over in pain after the first two punches, but Jareth doesn't hesitate once.

Chekov takes a punch to the face, the cut on his head slowly starting to bleed again. A kick to the abdomen and he hears a crack and he can't help the cry of pain he emits. Another two punches to the face and he's fighting to stay conscious. After that, he loses track of how many times he's hit. Everything hurts unbearably and he's finding hard to focus on anything anymore.

Then suddenly, everything stops.

He's still held up on both sides, but Jareth seems to have taken a break. Chekov musters the meager strength he has left and lifts his head. The sight before him makes him cringe. Jareth is walking back towards him, a knife in hand. The sheer metal glints in the dim light.

Chekov can't fight anymore, he's just too tired. His head is screaming at him to run but his body is beyond exhausted.

When Jareth reaches him, he lifts Chekov's chin with the tip of the knife in order to meet his gaze.

"Now...just so your friend Kirk never forgets me," he says to the camera behind him. He turns back to Chekov and lets the knife make a quick slice down the side of the boy's cheek. Chekov screams at the pain as hot blood trails down his face.

"That's for one month of hiding, Jim," Jareth says out loud. "Too bad for you kid," he says to Chekov, "he was hiding for a loooong time".

He makes another cut on Chekov's arm. The boy emits something between a whimper and a sob. He can feel the tears mixing with his blood. "That's for two," Jareth says almost absentmindedly.

This repeats ten more times until Chekov has twelve bleeding gashes on different parts of his body. He's finding it so hard to breathe and he knows it's minutes if not seconds before he passes out from the pain.

Jareth turns toward the camera and begins speaking, but Chekov can hear none of it. There's only a loud ringing in his ears. His head lolls against his chest.

He momentarily thinks about how easy it would be to give up right here and right now and how easy it would be to stop fighting.

To just let go.

But something inside him tells him he needs to hold out, that he needs to keep trying, that he can't give up now.

He has to hang on to life just a little bit longer.

Just a little bit longer.

….

….

….

The first thing he notices when he wakes up his how bright the room has suddenly become. He goes to stand up and suddenly realizes he's not in pain like he should be. Every movement should be excruciating, but he can't tell that anything is wrong. He checks his head and doesn't feel the blood from earlier. His clothes aren't dirty and wrinkled.

This is when he first looks up to survey his surroundings. He's not in the dingy store room anymore, but rather, nowhere. At least that's the first thing that comes to mind.

Upon further investigating, he realizes he's in the park he used to always visit as a child during the warmer summers. Growing up in the port city of Taganrog allowed him to be outside in the spring and summer. It was one of his favorite things to do once the bitter winters ended.

He smiles amidst the nostalgia that washes over him. He can almost smell the evergreen trees lining the sidewalks. There are however, no children running about in the grass and playing. The park is unusually empty. It appears he's the only one here.

That is until he hears a voice softly calling his name.

It's quick, almost unsure, as if whoever is calling him can't be sure it's him. He turns, looking for the source.

He hears it again, this time more confident. He spins around and sees a figure across the park. He's pretty sure it's a woman, but it's hard to tell from this distance.

""Hello?" he calls back. The figure doesn't move. He hesitantly begins to approach.

As he draws closer to the stilled figure, he begins to see more distinct features: medium length curly brown hair, a thin, pale face. It's only when he's merely a few feet from her that every part of him stills, and he's drawn to the pale-green eyes that brighten as she smiles.

The rational part of his mind is telling him that there's no possible way for this scenario to take place. It's just not possible.

But as he stares, he just can't help but let that small bit of hope convince him that what he sees before him is real.

The woman reaches out her hand and her fingers brush Pavel' s cheek right where the cut from before should be. He feels no pain.

Pavel places his own hand over the one cupping his cheek and leans into the warmth of the familiar touch he's been dreaming of for so long.

"Oh, Pasha," the woman whispers happily, "my little Pasha". She envelops him in a tight embrace and Chekov hugs her back, afraid that if he lets go, she may disappear forever.

Everything seems so perfect in this moment. Every bad thing, every obstacle, every hardship he's ever faced, it all seems so far away. All because he's here. All because she's here.

"I've missed you so much," she cries softly.

"I've missed you too, мама," he whispers back.

His words are muffled as he buries his face in the fabric of her sweater. His head rests gently in the crook of her neck. Chekov squeezes his eyes shut and allows the warm tears to trail down his cheeks.

He pulls back and smiles at his mother for the first time in ten years. She's the same as she was the last time he ever saw her that cold winter night so long ago. It explains why Chekov is now so nearly taller than her. He could barely reach her chest the last time he hugged her.

His mother takes her thumb and gently wipes away the tears from under his eyes. "You've grown so much," she says proudly, tears still gliding down her cheeks. "You're so tall you can probably reach the top cabinet now".

She laughs and Chekov does too. He can't help but smile. Just hearing her voice, it's something he can't quite put into words.

His mother takes his face in her hands and places a kiss on his forehead. She hugs him once more and Chekov thinks that he could stay here forever. After a few moments, she takes his hand and looks toward a bench at the edge of one of the sidewalks. "Come and sit with me," she says, "we have much to talk about".

…

…

…

Chekov is doubled over laughing and nearly slips off his place on the bench.

He's lost track of time talking with his mother. It could have been hours by now, but he doesn't really care.

"So he just let me do that?" Chekov struggles to ask through his laughter.

"You were two, what was he supposed to do? And besides, you looked so cute with that cake all over your face. And your father probably didn't mind when you threw it at him either. Probably".

This sends them both into another hysterical fit.

"I'm sorry I ruined your birthday cake," he apologizes.

His mother rolls her eyes and chuckles. "Trust me, it was much more fun to destroy than to eat".

Chekov laughs once more and then sighs, looking out over the empty park. The sun seems to be setting and Chekov can almost feel a pang in his heart at that thought of leaving. He and his mother sit for a few minutes in a comfortable silence, his head resting against her shoulder.

His mother then speaks, her eyes still gazing out toward the sunset horizon. "We need to talk about something else," she says. Chekov lifts his head and stares at her, puzzled. It seems his mother can sense his gaze and she sighs, turning toward him.

"We have to talk about your friends," she says inevitably. Chekov is thrown off guard for a moment. Sitting here has completely made him forget about today. Or yesterday. He hasn't really kept track of how long he's been gone. It seems pointless.

"Why would we need to talk about that?" He asks, his eyes staring at the ground as he skirts around the subject.

"Your friends are in danger, Pavel," she says. Chekov looks up at her, and he feels a tremor run through him when he sees his mother is all but gravely serious. He recalls all the questions he was asked about Kirk when he first arrived.

"It has to do with Jim, doesn't it" Chekov asks. His mother nods.

"Your friends are looking for you. They are worried, Pavel. For you".

Chekov bites back the instinct to roll his eyes. He furrows his brow and stares at his folded hands.

His mother sighs. "I know you may think differently, but they care for you. They are your family, just as much as I am".

"How do you know that?" Chekov asks, looking up.

"I may not be with you Pavel, but I still look after you. You are my son, and I could not be more proud of you. But you need to understand this: your friends, they only wanted to keep you safe. I've seen how they protect you. They would never deliberately hurt you".

"Then why did he leave? Why did Hikaru lie to me?" Chekov asks, that aching in his heart reigniting. "They lied to me….and I believed them".

His mother takes his hand in her own. "That's something you will have to ask them. They are willing to explain, my son. You just have to let them".

Chekov remains quiet and thinks. He thinks about this past year and how much pain it's caused him. He thinks about how betrayed he's felt since he first found out about everything. And he thinks about the cause of it all, the reason it all happened. Kirk and Sulu, they must have had a good reason to do what they did. Whatever set this into action, they wouldn't have made the decision unless it was absolutely necessary.

He thinks about all the times they've ever been there for him, helped him, supported him, protected him. Come hell or high water they'd always do what was best for him, no matter how hard it may be. It's now that he realizes he doesn't need an explanation from his friends. He trusts them enough to know that whatever decision they make, it's for the good of their family.

He'll want to hear about why exactly Kirk left, how he did it, and what he did, but before that he has to focus on staying alive, getting out, and protecting the only family he has left.

Chekov looks to his mother, her warm smile giving him comfort in the dimming twilight. "Thank you, мама," he says. She smiles and nods once, giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

All seems well for the time being. The sun is still sinking behind the tall evergreen trees, and the stars have slowly begun to appear. But something is bothering Chekov. His mother must notice his concern.

"What's wrong?" She asks kindly.

Chekov thinks for a moment about a question he's had since he reunited with his mother. It's about this place. And why he's here.

"Am I dying?" He questions with no hesitation. His mother's expression changes. It's softer now. It's almost like Pavel has come home crying from being teased in class again and she is here to comfort him,

"You've been badly hurt," she says almost painfully. "And you can survive. But you are giving up. The body can only take so much, but the will to live is what keeps us alive. You're losing that Pavel. You must fight back. You are so strong and so, so brilliant. I could have never dreamt of a better son than you. I am so very proud. You must promise me that you will not give up. That you will not stop fighting. I want you to live a long, happy life with the rest of your family. You will do great things, my son. Do you promise me?"

"I promise," Chekov replies. His mother smiles and Chekov rests his head against her shoulder once more.

"I love you from here to the stars," Chekov says, staring up at the night sky and saying those words he so often used to when he was young.

"And I love you to the stars and back," his mother replies as she lays her head against Chekov's.

Chekov can already feel the world beginning to fade around him. The sky is dimming and the land around him has darkened. He squeezes his mother's hand one last time before the world around him disappears completely and he's spiraling back into consciousness.

He blinks his eyes open and is met with the dark ceiling he's grown somewhat accustomed to. Chekov goes to move the slightest bit and is suddenly met with every bit of pain that was absent before. He has to bite down on the front of his shirt to keep from screaming his lungs out.

He surveys the damage and concludes that it could have been much worse. No broken bones, maybe a few ribs at most. The bruising on his abdomen is substantial, but should heal given some time. He has a black eye, a split upper lip, and a few bruises littering his face. The only thing that really concerns him are the gashes from the knife. Most are superficial but there is one on his arm and another on his lower leg that have yet to stop bleeding. He tears pieces of his shirt and ties them gently around the injuries. It should stop the bleeding for now.

Chekov looks around the room and begins planning. If he can get to his friends before they can get to him, then maybe he has a shot at fixing this.

He remembers the promise to his mother and slowly begins to stand, despite the pain. He will not stop fighting, Not today. Not ever.

With that thought keeping him strong, he begins formulating a plan to escape.

I believe in you my little Pasha, he can almost hear his mother say. Chekov smiles.

He keeps his mother's words close.

He will not give up.


	9. Chapter 9

Kirk cannot sleep. He's tried everything; he even did that stupid thing where you're supposed to count sheep or something. It only frustrated him.

He's on the floor of Hikaru's living room staring at the blank ceiling. To his right, McCoy is passed out snoring on the couch. Sulu took the other couch while he gave the main bedroom to Spock and Uhura. Scotty is sleeping off the ungodly amount of scotch he drank on the recliner in the corner of the room.

The decision to come back and sleep was one nobody wanted to make. They'd gone to the diner and found no trace of Maxim or anyone who could be connected to their search. They even waited outside two hours and searched the surrounding area to see if anyone showed up. The sun rose and by then they'd found nothing.

Spock had finally voiced the suggestion that perhaps they'd be of more use to the search effort with a few hours of sleep. Kirk had argued with him, which of course he now regrets, but he just couldn't justify going back to the apartment and sleeping. Not while Chekov was still out there somewhere. It felt like they were abandoning him.

So now he turns over angrily, trying to will himself to sleep for even just a few minutes. This whole scenario sucks. He's so frustrated at everything and everyone and he just wants a solution that can fix it all. He'd tried so hard to make the right decision, but in the end it hadn't even mattered. Everything he'd feared would happen, happened.

He almost bitterly congratulated himself on failing so spectacularly. Kirk still remembers that day on Asnora clearly. The terrorist attacks, the panic, the decision that "it was now or never". He remembers that conversation with Hikaru as if he'd just had it. They'd been planning for a few weeks by then. They'd had several scenarios planned out for faking his death, but had no opportunity to set them in motion. They waited patiently for the chance, but one never came.

That is until they were assigned to negotiate terms with terrorists who were wreaking havoc on several colonies on a planet called Asnora. They'd been warned about the danger of the mission and were told that should they need to intervene, they'd do whatever it took to protect the inhabitants of the planet, even if it meant apprehending the terrorists themselves.

The night after the assignment was announced, he met with Sulu. They talked about staging the death and how to set the cover up into motion. They'd argued quite a few times on how and when to go about doing it as well. It took nearly three hours before they finally agreed on something.

The next morning when the attacks on a nearby colony began was the last time Kirk ever saw most of his family. Even Spock, who aided with the whole thing, didn't even get see him after his "death". Kirk would say goodbye to Sulu a week later as he departed from section 31 headquarters. Everyone else he had no time for even a few last words to give them. Except for Chekov.

Kirk cringes just remembering the look on the kid's face. Sulu was supposed to "find" him dead, but was held up assisting against the terrorists. He got there just a little too late. It was Chekov who found him in the end. God, if the kid weren't so worried about him then he wouldn't had come to find him.

Kirk hated what he did so much. He hated tricking Chekov and making it seem like he'd just watch a friend die. But he had to. Kirk only had a few minutes before the simulation medication took hold. He had been fortunate enough that he drank it just before Chekov had shown up. If he hadn't, the entire plan would be uncovered.

The medication was a liquid that would leave no traces and once consumed, it would turn the drinker pale and lifeless and slow the pulse substantially. For all intended purposes, Kirk would be dead, but only just nearly. The slowed pulse would make detecting it almost impossible. Even Doctor McCoy wouldn't be able to argue against a stilled heart.

Kirk had tried his best to say goodbye before the medication caused him to pass out, but he thinks he probably only made it worse. The last thing he remembers from that day was Chekov yelling for him to stay awake. After that, he's not sure what events unfolded. He knows Doctor McCoy refused to perform an autopsy: something Kirk and Sulu had been counting on. With a request from Spock that no one else but Doctor McCoy do the autopsy, the examination went unperformed.

Of course it wasn't hard to pretend that a body was in the coffin that was buried the day of the funeral. From then on, Kirk was no longer "Kirk". He was an undercover agent with everything to lose should his cover be blown.

And now it had been. God only knows how they found out he was actually alive, but they did, and now he was paying the price.

Kirk turns over and shuts his eyes, trying to dispel the images of his youngest friend being tortured from his mind.

His dreams turn into nightmares faster than they ever have before and he can only hope they don't come true again.

….

….

….

When he finally wakes from his restless night of sleep, Kirk sits up and stretches, his neck aching from laying on the hard floor. Light pours in through the windows and without even checking the clock, he can tell it's well into midday. He ridicules himself for not waking up earlier.

As Kirk goes to stand, he hears the buzz of the call button from the bottom floor entrance. He looks to the wall and sees the tiny communicator situated by the door and then surveys the room. Everyone's still asleep, so who's at the door?

He cautiously approaches the front door and presses the button. He pauses a moment before answering.

"Hello?"

There's a single, solid voice that replies back. It's even-toned, quick, and unfaltering.

"Jareth sends his regards".

Kirk goes rigid before sprinting into action and ripping open the door. He tears down the stairwell two at a time. He doesn't even acknowledge the receptionist's quip of worry as she asks if everything is alright.

By the time he reaches the entrance, the front step is vacant. Kirk's hit with a blast of cold air as he exits the warmth of the building into the icy chill of the autumn air. He frantically searches left and right but whoever was here a minute ago has seemingly vanished. Kirk curses to himself angrily before turning to make the journey back up the the apartment to inform the others of what's happened.

But something on the top step makes him stop.

There's a small black box sitting there, almost waiting for him to pick it up. At first he's afraid it's some kind of trick; that it's some kind of bomb that will decimate the entire city block in two seconds. But as he takes a closer look he notices that it's not a bomb, but a holo-camera. Puzzled, he retrieves the tiny box and looks it over.

There's a note taped to one side of the cube. "We've missed you!" It reads.

The greeting doesn't sit well with Kirk as he tucks the device into his jacket and climbs back up the stairs towards the apartment.

He meets McCoy on the way back up, who apparently was woken up by what he described as "the damn calvary racing down the stairs". Kirk would have assured him that everything was alright, but he's promised not to lie anymore.

Kirk's grave expression must signal that something is very wrong because McCoy is already back up the stairs trying to get everyone up. Jim reaches the door and everyone, albeit somewhat groggy, is gathered in the living room. When he walks through the entrance, everyone looks to him expectantly.

"This...I found this on the front step," he says, pulling the holo-camera from his jacket. "It's from them".

Kirk doesn't look up to meet anyone's gaze. He just stares at the tiny device in his hands, turning it over and over again, afraid to find out what it's hiding. It's not until someone gently takes hold of his fidgeting hands does he look up. He's surprised to see Uhura, a sympathetic gaze on her features. She nods to reassure him that it's okay: they'll do this together.

Kirk places the device on the table in the center of the room and taps it once, A blue light pulses to signal it's on and the camera begins projecting. At first, there's nothing. Just the sounds of someone moving around amidst the blackness. But then whoever was blocking the camera moves and the holograph takes full form.

"Oh my god," McCoy barely breathes out. Kirk grasps the armchair next to him tightly and digs his fingernails into the soft fabric. It's all he can do to not scream out in anger.

In the back corner of what looks to be a run down store room, Chekov, their sweet, caring, loving, innocent Chekov, is held up by two men. There's dried blood on his forehead and his clothes are dirtied and bloodied. He's got a black eye and a bad cut on his lip, and the way the kid doesn't quite stand up straight makes Kirk think there might be some injury on his back somewhere.

Kirk's blood is boiling and he has a dreadful feeling that the worst is yet to come. The others are transfixed on the scene before them as their youngest friend glances fearfully at the camera.

"Let's begin, shall we?" A deep-voiced man asks. Kirk knows it's Jareth. He's had to listen to that narcissistic, ego-driven asshole everyday for the past year. He's been expecting to encounter him again.

But what Kirk isn't expecting is what happens next. Jareth begins beating the youngest of their family mercilessly, kicking and punching relentlessly. Chekov isn't faring well even after the first few punches. His head is bleeding once again and after a particularly brutal kick to the abdomen, he's coughing violently. A bit of blood travels out the side of his mouth and Kirk feels like he's going to be violently ill.

Uhura's crying now and Kirk feels like doing the same after Jareth lands another kick to Chekov's stomach. This continues for almost three minutes, but to everyone else, it's an endless nightmare lasting an eternity.

Then suddenly, it all just stops. Jareth calmly turns back towards the camera and goes to grab something off its view. The silence in the room is heavy, and the only thing breaking it is the sound of Chekov's labored breathing.

Kirk's eyes are locked on the projection as Chekov lifts his head just so slightly that he can see his face. The boy's eyes widen in fear and it almost looks like he tries to back away, but he's held fast by the two men on his sides. Jareth reappears, this time carrying something that shines brightly in the dingy light of the room.

"No!" Scotty cries almost ferally, as if he's going to rip into the projection and kill Jareth himself.

Jareth uses the tip of his knife to lift Chekov's chin so that his gaze is level with his own.

"Now….just so your friend Kirk never forgets me," Jareth says, looking directly into the camera. Kirk can nearly feel the weight of his guilt crushing him. It's almost suffocating.

Jareth makes the slightest of movements and lets the knife slice down the right side of Chekov's face. The scream that follows is one that will haunt Kirk's nightmares. He'll never be able to rid his memory of it.

"That's for one month of hiding, Jim," Jareth calls out. "Too bad for you, kid," he tells Chekov, "he was hiding for a loooong time".

Kirk can barely watch anymore. Jareth makes cut after cut, calling out numbers like he's reading off a checklist. 6 months, 7 months, 8 months.

It's not until twelve does he finally stop and Kirk thinks he might go insane. All he can hear is the screams, the frightened cries. All from his youngest brother. The sounds replay in his head over and over again until he's pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the headache he's caused himself.

No one in the living room speaks and Kirk understands why. What the hell can anyone say that doesn't just float through the air meaningless as their friend is tortured within an inch of his life?

Jareth throws the knife aside and turns back towards the camera, smiling. Something snaps inside Kirk in that moment. He wants to hurl some solid object towards the projection; anything to make this man pay.

"We're at the abandoned shipping warehouse on fifth and main," Jareth rattles off. "This message is for James Kirk. Come willingly. Come alone. Surrender yourself and we'll release Pavel here without a single scratch more. You bring any kind of weapon within ten feet of this place and I'll make very sure your young friend here is relieved of any pain. Permanently. I'll be expecting you, Kirk. And I would hurry," Jareth says, glancing back to Chekov. The boy's head is lolling against his chest and his knees have buckled out from under him. The only thing holding him up is the support of the two men on his sides.

"He doesn't seem like he can last much longer. He's just a kid, you know? Hopefully he'll hold out until you get here," Jareth says with no empathy, smiling his sickening smile once more. "See you soon".

The last image is of Jareth reaching for the camera, and the video goes blank.

There's silence throughout the apartment. Kirk can feel his heart pumping vigorously; the blood rushing in his ears. He's so occupied with trying to understand what he's going to do next that he doesn't see the fist from the corner of his eye until it's too late.

Kirk's usually a pretty solid guy, but the force of the punch knocks him on his ass and he's left dazed for a minute until he sees a figure come at him, aiming to swing again.

"YOU DID THIS!" Sulu screams. He throws a wild punch and Kirk launches out of range just in time to avoid getting hit. He rolls onto his elbows and looks up at his friend, his brother, whose eyes are red from crying; whose tears are still fresh and rolling down his cheeks.

Kirk has seen Sulu at what anyone would call "his worst"; screaming, yelling, breaking fragile objects. He's seen it once, and he's seen it again. He's been there through it with him.

But this.

Never this.

This is some kind of raw pain Kirk's never seen his friend experience before. He sees the hurt, the anger in the younger man's eyes. All the fury Hikaru had been keeping at bay since Kirk had gotten back was now surging forward and spilling over the rim.

Kirk waits for a blow, but it never comes. Scotty is between them, McCoy grabbing onto Sulu and holding him back. Kirk locks eyes with his friend.

"You never should have come back!" Sulu yells. He's struggling against McCoy, but the old doctor is more than capable of holding him back. "We would have been better off without you! Pavel would be here! He'd be safe! You should have stayed gone!"

Every syllable feels like a knife to the stomach. Scotty's trying to get Sulu's attention, trying to block Jim from his view.

"Hikaru, listen to me," Scotty nearly pleads, "you have to let it go. Jim is here to help us find Pavel".

"Help us!" Sulu laughs bitterly in disbelief. "All he's done is make things worse!"

Scotty tries to reason with younger man, but it seems in vain. "He's tried his best to-"

"No," Kirk interrupts, pushing himself up and standing, "he's right. I've only made things worse since I've gotten back".

Everyone is silent. Even Hikaru has ceased trying to attack him.

"But that doesn't meant I don't want to try and make things right. I can't take back what I've done," Kirk admits, "I know that. But I also know I can help. They want me. And I can give them that".

"Jim," Uhura intervenes. "They'll kill you once they have what they want".

Kirk is beyond caring about that at this point. "If I don't go, Chekov is going to die. And that is not something I am _ever _going to let happen. If they want me, they can have me," Kirk says. He doesn't meet anyone's eyes.

"Now I know that none of you owe me anything, nor should you feel obligated to help me after everything I've put you through," he admits. "But I have a plan, and if you're willing to help me, it might just work".

Everyone exchanges glances, as if waiting for someone to make the first move. Kirk wouldn't be surprised if no one wanted to help him at this point. He wouldn't mind going there by himself, but he needs someone to take care of Chekov once they let him go. He's only hoping his friends understand that.

Spock is the first to volunteer to help, followed quickly by the others. The only one who hasn't said anything by the end is Hikaru. He won't even meet Kirk's gaze.

"Fine," he eventually spits, eyes still locked on the ground. "For Pavel".

Kirk nods his head. That's all he needs to hear.

He only hopes his plan will work. Losing Chekov isn't an option. His plan must succeed. Kirk knows he will never forgive himself if he lets anything else happen to his youngest friend.

He cannot let his family down a second time.

He just can't.


	10. Chapter 10

Surprisingly, there's a moment of pure relief that something is actually going right before _everything _goes to hell.

Chekov is carefully making his way down an open hallway in the opposite direction of the room he was being held in. He's still reeling from the adrenaline of escaping. There were so many factors that could have meant failure, but everything went swimmingly; well at least as well as it could have gone considering he's now still trapped inside a warehouse he knows nothing about.

He'd been standing in the middle of the room and begun screaming to draw attention from the guard in the hallway. Despite his injuries' protest, he quickly slipped across the room next to the exit. Once the door swung open and the guard made his way inside, Chekov grabbed the electric rod he'd been hit with earlier from the other man's belt.

Before the guard even had a chance to process what was happening, Chekov jabbed the rod straight into his back. The electricity from the end of the rod arched and blue sparks of light illuminated the room. The guard screamed in agony and promptly collapsed in a heap on the floor, unmoving and unconscious. A small wisp of smoke from his singed clothing floated into the air.

Chekov, not wanting to ruin his luck so far, tucked the rod protectively under his arm and began to run; well, more like jog painfully. Everything still hurt tremendously and every few seconds he found himself gasping for breath.

Now, after he exits the main wing he's been held captive in, Chekov quickly sneaks down an unlit corridor. He's searching for anything, even just an exit sign or directory to point him in the right direction. It's in this suspicious hallway that he happens upon an ajar door with muffled voices spilling out from the small opening. Chekov inches only slightly closer, just enough to make out the conversation taking place.

"I told you once and I'll tell you again! We are doing things _my _way and we're handling this how _I say _we do it!"

Chekov recognizes Jareth's enraged shouting. To whom he is shouting, he assumes it's one of his followers.

"Look, Jareth, I'm not tryin' to commit some kind of treason here. I'm just wonderin' why we didn't grab Kirk at the apartment to begin with. He would've never seen it coming! We knew exactly where he was. We were on the doorstep for Christ sake!"

This must be the follower Jareth is yelling at. But Chekov isn't focused on that. A chill has run up his arms and spine. They knew where Kirk was? How had they gotten so close undetected? And why _hadn't _they taken Kirk when they had the chance? Chekov leans closer to the opening in the doorway to listen.

"Kirk is a cocky son of a bitch," Jareth speaks again. "And if he knows the game is in his favor, he won't give in. Every single one of his damn "crew" was at that same apartment with him. Not to mention what weapons or tricks they'd be hiding up there if we tried to get in. No. It was their advantage. But this way, we're drawing him out. As long as we have the kid, Kirk can't win. He won't let the boy die if he thinks he still has a chance of saving him".

There's a beat of silence.

"_Does_ he still have a chance of saving him?" The other voice asks. Jareth emits a chilling laugh that makes Chekov's skin crawl with fear.

"For now…sure. But once Kirk arrives, I'm going to have to make him suffer just one more time," Jareth says, almost excited at the thought. "To teach him a lesson about trying to trick me. Killing the kid and making him watch: he'll break like a pathetic weakling".

Quite suddenly, Chekov can't breathe. His heart is racing wildly and he can feel the blood pounding in his ears. They are going to kill him. They are going to make his friend watch. He stumbles back a step and slams into the wall opposite the doorway. It's a stupid mistake he can almost slap himself for. The sound of his body hitting the wall reverberates loudly, and suddenly there's silence from in the room.

Chekov doesn't hesitate. He takes off running as fast as he can manage, still trying to will away the pain from his legs and abdomen. As he rounds the corner he hears an unmistakable voice that causes his blood to run cold.

"It's the kid! How the hell did he get out? Don't let him get away!"

Chekov's feet slam the concrete floor and every step makes his chest burn like fire. He's hoping his fervent will to survive will push him on, but so far it's not helping all that much. He rounds another corner and crashes through an opened door. Hitting the door causes nearly every injury to flare up in agony and he cries out in a mix of frustration and pain.

The room he now finds himself in is a loading dock somewhat similar to the one he was led to earlier. Except this one is definitely different because on the opposite side of the room is an opened metal gate. On the other side of the gate is the night sky and most importantly: outside. The brisk chill of autumn air filters in and Chekov can nearly shout in triumph now that he's finally found an exit.

Glancing behind himself to ensure he still hasn't been found, Chekov makes a break across the giant room. His heart is pounding and his limbs are burning but somehow he still finds the energy to keep moving.

He's so close to the exit; so incredibly close that if he reached out his hand his fingers would probably brush the edge of cool air separating the outside form inside.

But it's not meant to be. For some reason fate just seems to beat him down mercilessly today.

He slams full force into the muscular arms of a person much, much taller than him. He hits the other body so hard he literally has to gasp for air because it's all knocked out of him on impact. The force reverberates all throughout his body and soon all the pain he feels is exemplified ten times.

His attacker grapples for the electric rod in his hand, but Chekov is unyielding. He squirms and kicks and even elbows his way out of the other man's strong grip.

"You know you're a lot more of a pain in the ass than I thought!" The attacker shouts. It's Jareth. Chekov's mind goes tunnel vision as Jareth grabs onto his arm once more.

The boy wildly swings the rod around, hoping for just one hit.

He's lucky, and the rod makes contact. Jareth immediately relinquishes his hold and Chekov stumbles forward onto the ground. The other man yells out angrily and collapses to his knees, cradling his singed arm.

Chekov's eyes widen in fear at what he's done and he scrambles to get up. Jareth will kill him for this. He has to get away.

As he turns to run out the opened gate, Chekov feels another person grab him from behind and the electric rod is knocked forcefully from his hand. It clatters to the cold ground and the boy is left struggling once again to get free. But this time, he has no means of defense. Whoever has a hold of him is strong and wraps a crushing arm around his abdomen. Chekov struggles to free himself, but with no success. He's only able to thrash about wildly and cause his second attacker a struggle in keeping him still.

"ENOUGH!" Someone screams. Chekov glances to his right. Jareth: standing up and still cradling his injured arm.

Chekov struggles even more fervently.

"I…I can't keep him still!" The man holding him shouts. Jareth is seething at this point.

"Then get _rid _of him!" He shouts so loudly the order echoes off the walls. Chekov freezes.

No. No, he'd been so close.

"But, Jareth," the other man says, "what about Kirk? I thought you said-"

"Never mind what I said," Jareth barks. "We already have the bastard coming here anyway. Telling him the brat's dead will do the job just the same".

Chekov is having trouble focusing. They're going to kill him. Probably kill Kirk. Probably kill all his other friends once their done. He can't let that happen.

"Nyet, please!" He all but begs. "Joost take vhat you vant from me! Leave zhe ozers alone!"

Jareth almost laughs. "You don't have what we're looking for kid. You were just bait for the real prize".

Chekov can't understand what he's talking about. "Vhat do you vant? I can get it for you. Joost tell me vhat it is and I can get it. Please joost leave Kirk alone".

There's a foolish moment of hesitation where Chekov thinks that maybe Jareth will reconsider and accept his offer. But the man's threatening grin says otherwise.

"You know I gotta hand it to you kid. Not many people are as self-sacrificing as you're choosing to be. Unfortunately, what we want we can only get from Kirk. And it's not something you'll need to worry about anymore".

Jareth directs his attention the other man.

"Maxim. Pier 54 off the south shore," he orders. "Make sure you're not followed".

Maxim nods his head in response and begins to drag Chekov away, despite the boy's struggles.

"You'll be the bottom of the bay's problem soon," Jareth laughs. "It's been nice meeting you, Pavel! I'll make sure to tell Kirk you said hello!" The older man turns away towards the exit and all Chekov can feel is unfathomable rage.

He fights back with every ounce of strength he has left; kicking his legs out, thrashing his elbows.

"God damn it," Maxim yells in frustration as he grapples to keep Chekov in place. The young Russian is determined. He almost smiles as he lands a satisfying elbow in Maxim's stomach. This only enrages the taller man more.

Maxim hits him over the head hard, and suddenly all Chekov can see is the blackness damming around his vision.

Somewhere along the way the man binds his hand; probably to limit his movement and chance at another escape. He's half-carried the rest of the journey until Maxim tosses him forcefully into the back of a van.

The floor is ice cold and Chekov struggles to push himself upright. The doors to the back slam shut and soon he can feel the van take off.

Chekov rests his aching head lightly against the wall of the vehicle. Everything feels lost. Everyone he loves is probably going to die and he can't do anything about it because he's about to die himself.

The van rattles along a bumpy road and Chekov just wants to hit something. He wants to scream at something; to curse the world for being so unfair and so cruel. All he and his friends ever wanted to do was make the universe a better place. And now it's turning its back on them. He tries to remember his mother's words to him about staying strong and never giving up. He won't give up. He promised her that. But it seems this world might give up on him first.

He wants to yell and cry and shout and _curse_ these _godforsaken circumstances_ for turning his and his family's world into one tremendous mess in just one day.

Life has never seemed fair, but this is a whole new level.

Chekov shuts his eyes to try and sleep. Maybe the universe will be kind enough to allow him one last dreamless sleep before he dies.

Or then again, maybe the universe will grant him one last _good_ dream to remember in his last moments.

He can only hope.


End file.
